


And The Cogs Fall Into Place

by heartsdesire456



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Arranged Marriage, Bandom Big Bang 2012, M/M, Parenthood, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump was happy with his life as owner of Stump's Specialty Shoppe, a wonderful shop where he could sell his inventions, until his mother forged his signature to a marriage contract to none other than the recently widowered Lord Wentz. In spite of being forced to face the reality of leaving his home, his business, and his young friend without anyone to watch over him, Patrick soon finds it hard to hate his new husband.</p><p>Brendon Urie thought he had finally found a friend, almost like an older brother, when he began working at Stump's Specialty Shoppe. When he receives the news that Patrick is leaving, Brendon is sure he is alone once again. Before Patrick leaves, however, Brendon finds himself introduced to the handsome airship captain with the nice smile that frequents the shop. When Captain Smith takes to frequenting the store every time his ship is docked, Brendon begins to realize he may have found something more than a friend in the handsome gentleman.</p><p>In a time of great change, as airships overtake trains for travel, and family begins to have a new meaning, follow the lives of two friends whose lives change forever within a short period of months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Cogs Fall Into Place

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my mixer, my artist, and the amazing valress for betaing for me when nobody else was free. Thanks so much to all of you! Also, to those of you who have been teased with hints about this fic for MONTHS, I really hope you aren't disappointed you waited so long for this fic! I started (and finished) this fic back in about february or so and my friends have been waiting since then like impatient little minions and I love you all for fueling my writing!
> 
> This fic has art and mix available [here](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/944987.html) and it is originally posted on LJ [here](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/945248.html).

Each cog slotted together perfectly. Each gear was oriented so precisely that the machine whirred almost silently. When one regarded a little brass hummingbird, nobody wanted it to clank like medieval suits of armor, they expected it to hum like the name suggested as it flittered around in a lively fashion. Children in particular adored the little metal hummingbirds, chasing them around outside the shop whenever they were taken out front to be tested in front of the customers.

“Patrick… should this thing be making this noise?”

Patrick’s head popped up, interrupted from his musings over how beautiful the hummingbird he attempted to fix was when he heard the panicked note in Brendon’s voice.

It was never a good sign if _Brendon_ sounded afraid.

Patrick stood and hurried up to the front of the shop, only to arrive beside Brendon just in time for a watch Brendon was working on to catch fire and then explode on the work bench in front of them. They both yelled in alarm and threw themselves to the floor to avoid the springs and cogs flying all over the shop. “Brendon!” Patrick moaned as they both stood up, looking at the empty casing lying on the wooden counter with scorch marks around it. “How in the world do you manage to set things on fire?” he asked, shooting him a look. “ _Metal_ things!”

Brendon just snickered and Patrick frowned. Brendon bit his lip and pointed at the glass in the door to the back room. Patrick walked over and gaped at his reflection as he saw the smoke had left greasy black smudges all over his face, leaving him looking somewhat like a bandit. Patrick turned to glare and Brendon gave him a wide eyed look. “I’m sorry, Patrick, I don’t know what’s wrong!”

Patrick glanced at the bottle next to the scorch mark and ran a hand over his face. “Is that the deoxidizing liquid I keep _under_ my desk?” he asked, and Brendon gave him a big-eyed, pouty look.

“There was rust on the face-“

“Brendon,” Patrick said and Brendon sighed, nodding. “And you realize that will cause heat and steam if it comes into contact with any moisture. So if you put the watch back together and there was condensation behind the glass…” He gestured to the work space and Brendon blinked.

“Oh… boom?” he guessed and Patrick glowered behind his spectacles. “I’m sorry!” he said quickly. “I don’t KNOW that stuff yet!” he defended and Patrick groaned.

“You’re learning, but stop stealing my ‘do not touch’ things, okay?” he tried and Brendon nodded sheepishly, going about cleaning up his mess. Patrick watched with a begrudgingly fond smile as Brendon went about cleaning up, looking downtrodden about his accident. 

Patrick had known the enthusiastic young man for just over a year. In that year he had learned quite a bit, but he still didn’t get things right all the time. Patrick had originally let him on as a shop keeper, just someone to ring up customers and sweep the floors occasionally. Patrick had been reluctant to hire such a young man- a boy essentially- at first when he showed up after seeing the help-wanted sign, but when he found out about Brendon’s situation, he couldn’t help the part of him that not only wanted to hire Brendon but to look out for him as well.

Brendon had grown up in a large, very religious family. His parents were somewhat poor, but had managed without sending their children to the factories to work because their father didn’t believe that God wanted children to see such terrible conditions before they were old enough to understand such things. They worked their hardest to keep their children from the factories or themselves from the workhouse, as well as have enough time to spare to see that their children were educated. Brendon’s father had been lucky enough to be taught to read and write as a young man, due to its necessity in his trade, so he made sure to teach his children their letters.

Due to having children who were literate and had escaped the health problems related to factory work and the disfiguring injuries often endured by the children who did work there, they were able to marry their children off to decent families a bit above their own station so that they would be ensured a life that didn’t end in the workhouse. Brendon had only been six years old when his oldest sister, the one who had basically taken care of him since he was weaned and his mother could trust her oldest daughter with the other children and return to work, was married off to a local butcher’s son. She was only fourteen and the man she was married to was twenty-nine. 

At the time Brendon told Patrick this, he was not only disgusted for the poor girl, but sorry for Brendon, who hadn’t seen his sister since, only got occasional letters throughout the years. Brendon then went on to tell Patrick that, at the time he had been too young to understand exactly why his sister had gone away, but he was old enough for it to have taken some of the joy of being a child away to have his dearest sibling taken from him. He explained also that subsequently, his second eldest sibling, his sister Kyla, was married off at fifteen to a boy who- though much closer to her own age- she had never met before their wedding. The only consolation for her was that he was set to inherit his father’s print-shop and they would never have to worry about money. When his oldest brother, Joshua, was married, Brendon had been old enough to realize where his siblings were disappearing to and couldn’t understand why they didn’t seem to get a choice in the situation. He saw grownups courting and didn’t understand why his sisters and brother had all been just given to the best-qualified people their father could find.

His sister Marett was married off to a man with horrible manners, from what Brendon could see at the wedding, only three months after Joshua and yet everybody seemed so happy for her because she was fifteen and not nearly as pretty as her older sisters, yet had found a richer husband than either of them. With only three children left, the pressure was off on marrying them as quickly as possible because his parents could afford them better. His brother Scott was the only one who even had a say in his marrying. He was seventeen and when his mother suggested he marry the girl whose father owned a book store in Town, he agreed because she was a nice, pretty girl who he had been friends with for a while. Brendon had been proud of Scott because he made his own choices, simply guided by his mother’s suggestion.

But when Brendon was fifteen, the last sibling he had left was his sister McKayle. She was two years older and his best friend. Brendon thought the world of his sister. He would fight the boys on the street when they laughed at the way she talked about becoming a governess and teaching children. The boys all said she was too poor to be a governess and it angered Brendon beyond all else when someone made his sister feel bad about anything. It was during the summer that their mother took ill and, with the fear that she wouldn’t survive, McKayle agreed to _marry_ one of those same horrible, cruel boys so that she wouldn’t be a burden on her family if her mother passed and their father couldn’t support them both.

Brendon had pleaded with her to refuse, he wanted her to become a governess and make her own choices, no matter what her gender, but in the end, McKayle refused to deny her parents’ wishes. Brendon hated her husband. They only lived a few streets away, above his father’s offices in a nice set of rooms, but far less than what his sister deserved. Even worse, her husband never let Brendon go see her, claiming it was improper for a married woman’s siblings to intrude upon her new life. As they were married, McKayle had no say in whether or not her brother came to visit. 

Brendon admitted to Patrick he knew it was coming for him next. He knew his oldest sister had married a year younger than he was at the time, so it was only a matter of time. However, his mother recovered and was able to return to work. With both of his parents working once again and only one child, they no longer suffered very much of a burden. Brendon was treated to better food and more substantial clothing than ever before, but it came with the price of being alone all the time. He hated the girls within his neighborhood, they were all vain and stupid. His parents weren’t looking for him a spouse. For a change they were willing to let him find his own, but he nearly resented the choice because he didn’t like anybody he knew.

When he turned eighteen and still wasn’t married, his parents began suggesting he join the priesthood. It wasn’t at all unheard of for boys his age to be unmarried in higher social circles, but as a poor family, most children married off as soon as possible, so he was beginning to be the only boy his age left unmarried. Patrick had asked at that point in their conversation why Brendon didn’t join the priesthood if he didn’t desire to be married and Brendon had made a revelation that explained his situation at the time.

When his parents began pushing priesthood, he had brought up that he didn’t want to never marry and be a clergyman. They asked why he wouldn’t just pick a girl and marry her and, after some avoidance, he was badgered on the subject until he blurted out the truth: He had never really wanted to marry a girl at all.

Marriages between two men or two women weren’t really uncommon any more, but Patrick had understood immediately that with a family so religious, a legal marriage wouldn’t suffice in the eyes of Brendon’s parents. Faced with the chance their son could be a homosexual, they changed their minds and _demanded_ Brendon either find a bride within a month or join the priesthood immediately. The whole row ended in Brendon storming out and running away with no intention of ever returning.

Brendon had been living on the streets for nearly a week when he showed up in Patrick’s shop looking to take the job offered and, after hearing his story, Patrick had not only hired him but allowed him to live in the rooms above the shop.

Patrick’s passion had always been music and tinkering. Since he was a child, he loved instruments. He loved to make music more than most anything else. He also liked to take them apart and see what made them make the sounds they did, then put them back together again. Unlike Brendon, Patrick was actually a member of the upper class. He didn’t really partake in the frivolity of the privileged class life, but he grew up with the best tutors, the best clothes, and the promise that he would one day be a wealthy man, working with his brother as they jointly inherited their father’s shipping corporation. 

Early in life, however, Patrick grew bored of the pointlessness of the amount of ceremony and needless grandiosity exhibited by his class. When his brother came of age, he was eager to take his father’s place running his shipping empire, allowing their aging father to return home and retire with his wife. Patrick saw no need for following in his father and brothers footsteps, however. When he came of age and received access to his money without needing his father’s approval on how to spend it, he took everything he had and invested it in his dream of being an inventor.

Stump’s Specialty Shoppe was what the sign hanging on the storefront read. Inside, the store’s shelves were lined with all sorts of odds and ends. From trinkets and toys that were mundane but attractive, all the way to mechanical pets and inventions Patrick had dreamed up to aid in everyday living. He _loved_ his shop. His mother and father never approved of it, but as long as he didn’t do anything too embarrassing or stupid they didn’t mind him tinkering around in his ‘little shop’ while he lived at home, especially since it meant less accidents in the attic workshop of his childhood. (They never did find the maid who saw a mechanical snake and ran away to never return.)

Patrick didn’t miss the balls and dinners, especially the ones where everybody went out of their way to impress whatever member of the nobility had showed up to interact with the title-less aristocracy. He liked the fact that none of the ‘nice, sweet, very agreeable’ girls his mother had over for tea wanted a thing to do with a man in work clothes who came in looking like a filthy commoner. He had no desire to marry. He had no desire to court. He didn’t even have any desire to partake in the more illicit activities with ladies of the night like some of his fellow unattached aristocracy children did. All he wanted to do was settle in with some parts and make something beautiful that would make someone somewhere smile. The concerns of most people were not his own as he wasn’t poor or middle classed and in need of an income to survive, yet he was no longer faced with the tedium of the privileged class due to his ‘working’ status. When gossipy women and boastful men came into his shop, he cared so much less for their conversation than he did the excitement of the children they carted around with them when the spotted a little brass hummingbird buzzing around, or managed to coax out the mechanical puppy Patrick had built that only seemed to like Brendon and the rare calm, quiet child.

Patrick wasn’t what you would call a childlike person by nature, but he identified more with the amazed, happy, carefree looks on the face of children gazing at all of the exciting and odd trinkets around his store than any people his own age because they fully appreciated exactly what made him so happy about his work.

In spite of its tiny storefront on a busy street, Stump’s Specialty Shoppe did quite a lot of business due in part to their lovely crafts and in an even larger part to the fact that Patrick wasn’t out to empty people’s pockets. He charged just enough to pay for how much it cost to buy the material and enough of a profit to keep up the shop and cover Brendon’s salary. He didn’t need money for himself, his family was well taken care of at home and he had no need for frivolous purchases like most of his class often made. Patrick was a simple man who enjoyed a privileged, but, overall, simple life.

And that was how he intended to keep it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick sensed that something was off with his parents. 

He had checked thoroughly that he removed all of the grease from his face before they joined around the table for dinner to be served, so he knew it wasn’t that that had his parents sending him uneasy looks before glancing at each other with inscrutable expressions.

It wasn’t until after the meal finished, as they were waiting for the promised custard to be served by their kitchen servant that his mother cleared his voice. “Patrick, darling,” she started and Patrick tensed. She called him every endearment under the sun when she was about to say something that he didn’t like. He knew her tells. “Your father and I-“ She glanced at her husband and smiled tersely. “We were just wondering if… maybe you were at the stage where you could leave your little store to your boy… and… maybe not work there yourself,” she suggested and Patrick shot her a look.

“Mother, I thought we had this discussion when I started my _business_ ,” he said, lingering on the word after she referred to it as a ‘little store’. “Building and inventing things is what makes me happy-“

“And we do care very much about your happiness son, very much,” his father urged heartily. “However… your mother and I-“

His mother smiled and offered him a gentle voice. “We feel that maybe you could find a suitable happiness elsewhere,” she said, lowering her tone. “Perhaps in marriage you could find a happiness to replace-“

Patrick sighed, cutting off his mother’s speech. “I thought we’ve spoken on the subject of marriage at length long ago, mother,” he said and she gave his father a pleading look.

“Look, son,” he said in an awkward tone. “It’s just that you’re twenty-seven years old and not only are you unmarried, but you’re a most eligible bachelor who runs a shop with a homeless boy where you do the work of merchants far below your station,” he offered.

Patrick scoffed. “Brendon isn’t homeless, he lives above the shop-“

“Without paying for a thing!” his mother intervened. “Dear, just think of how it looks. It’s nice to display charity to a boy with nothing on his own, but the fact of it is you are far from a child anymore, Patrick. It’s one thing to play with the servant’s children when you’re small, but to continue to associate with people far beneath you without even having a spouse-“

Patrick glared. “The people I associate are not ‘beneath me’, mother! A person’s worth is not exhibited by a bank account-“

“No, dear, I know, I didn’t mean to insult your friends, they’re lovely people, I’m sure-“ She floundered until his father took over.

“It’s just that you can’t count on us your whole life, Patrick.” He looked at his wife. “We set it up for you and your brother to take over the business together, but as much as he’s invested into it at this point, there’s no guarantee he’ll cut you in if- God forbid- something happened to your mother and I. We just want to be sure you are secure and established on your own, son. You’re twenty-seven years old and unmarried. Even for someone beneath us- in status only, not in worth as people- but even for them, it’s very unusual,” he said, then nodded to his wife. “We really believe that… well you could benefit from the stability of being married-“

“And you would be so happy, my dear boy,” his mother interrupted. “Having your own home is very satisfying indeed. A companion is just what a man of your intellect needs to stimulate your mind-“

Patrick scoffed. “I do not need a companion to keep my mind sharp, thank you very much,” he said, standing abruptly. “I don’t believe I’m in the mood for custard. Goodnight mother, goodnight father,” he said, turning to leave.

“Patrick wait! We’re not done speaking-“

“Yes you are!” Patrick called back, cutting off his mother’s voice long enough for him to get out into the hall and shut the door, effectively ending the attempts to badger him about his refusal to marry any longer.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick noticed a change in the light into the storefront and glanced up just in time to see a friend and frequent customer pausing to examine the front window display. He smirked and called out to Brendon. “Brendon! Come quickly, I need your help with something!”

Just as Brendon appeared from the back room, joining him at the counter, the tinkling of the bell over the door announced the arrival of the customer Patrick had observed. Brendon didn’t even speak to Patrick before his voice was killed with a tiny squeak that left him blushing for a moment, only to burst into a wide smile. “Mr. Smith!” he cried excitedly, standing straight and tall beside Patrick.

The man, Spencer Smith, was a loyal customer who had been coming to Patrick’s shop since it opened, back when he was just a boy. “Hi Brendon,” Spencer said, smiling at Brendon in a way that always made Brendon sigh, Patrick had noticed. 

Spencer Smith was a tall, broad man with a short beard, a friendly smile, and the bluest eyes Patrick had ever seen. As a boy he had been smaller and softer, but since he graduated from deckhand to captain of his very own air ship- Sarah Smiles- he had also transitioned from boyhood into manhood quite well. 

Patrick had to admit his jealousy over Spencer’s impressive beard at twenty-one years old when Patrick couldn’t grow much at all in spite of being six years Spencer’s senior. Spencer had been a hand on the airship Sarah Smiles, a ship named after her former owner’s wife, when the old man retired and decided there was nothing better to do with her than leave her to his most loyal and trustworthy hand- the then nineteen year old Spencer Smith. For the past two years, he had piloted her all over, living on his ship whenever she was docked since he was doing deliveries too often to bother trying to keep a residence as well. 

“What brings you in today, Mr. Smith?” Brendon asked, giving the largest and silliest of all of his big, silly smiles that Patrick was so used to. It was a level of enthusiasm that seemed to only be reserved for Spencer Smith, Patrick had observed.

Spencer sighed, shaking his head. “My lady is having some trouble again,” he said, then turned to focus his gaze on Patrick. “She keeps breaking propellers. I was hoping you could come check the engine and see what is causing the steam to make it rattle like it does,” he said and Patrick nodded.

“Sure, how long are you docked?” he asked, and Spencer blinked, looking like he was remembering something.

“Oh yes, you’re leaving soon, aren’t you?” he asked, then smiled sadly, shaking his head. “What on earth will I ever do about my lady without you, Patrick Stump?” he asked.

Patrick just frowned. “Leaving? Leaving where?” he ventured and Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, I assume you’ll be living outside of town and therefore not working at the shop anymore after the wedding,” he said, and Patrick and Brendon exchanged confused looks. “Wait, are the papers wrong?” Spencer asked, and Patrick shrugged.

“Must be, I don’t believe I missed a marriage proposal anytime,” he joked, earning a giggle from Brendon.

Spencer hummed, digging in his satchel. “Isn’t this your parents’ names?” he asked, laying the paper on the counter, opening to the announcements page. Brendon and Patrick leaned in and Patrick nearly keeled over as Brendon gasped at the announcement in big letters, nearly drawing all of the attention to it.

_**Mr. and Mrs. Henry Stump are proud to announce the engagement of their son, Patrick Martin Stump, to be married to Lord Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III in the month of June.** _

Patrick just stared as he heard his mother’s voice ringing through his head.

_Patrick wait! We’re not done speaking!_

“Oh no,” he said weakly, staring harder at the paper announcement, wondering what the chances were that it was all just one bad dream.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick flew into his mother’s study, positively fuming, papers in his hand. “What is the meaning of this?!” he demanded, slamming the paper down so that the page with his _wedding announcement_ was turned towards her as she sat at her reading table.

She looked at the page then sighed. “Patrick, we tried to tell you last night,” she started and Patrick scoffed.

“What?! That you had _arranged a marriage without my knowledge_?” he demanded, completely enraged at his parents’ treachery. “To a MAN even! You don’t even know if I like men!” he demanded.

Mrs. Stump shot him a knowing look. “My dear, I’ve never once seen you glance at a lady with interest in your eyes, yet you blushed for a week after that soldier retrieved your hat for you that time in town a few months ago,” she said and Patrick felt his cheeks heating up at the knowledge that his mother simply assumed as to his preferences.

“And you felt that made it okay to offer me up to some strange man I’ve never met-“

She tutted. “Lord Wentz is a very well respected man. He is not _strange_ to anyone who bothers to keep up with the papers or go to social events. You would know him if you ever showed up at balls-“

“Mother, I don’t _like_ to know these people!” he said. “All of them are rude, stuck up, arrogant bastards-“

“ _Patrick_ -“

“And I refuse to marry one of them!” Patrick said with finality. 

Mrs. Stump raised an eyebrow. “Your father already negotiated the marriage contract. It is _illegal_ for you to not marry him.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “I am of age, I would have to sign it myself-“

“I forged your signature,” she admitted, looking slightly ashamed of herself for the first time. Patrick just stared at his mother in shock. Forging a man’s signature was not exactly an honorable thing to do and his mother had always been an honorable person. She sighed. “Patrick, I’m not proud of what we’re doing, especially not to you,” she said, standing to walk around the table, adjusting her skirts around the corner. “But my dear,” she started, reaching out to cup his face in her hands, sighing when he shrugged her off. “Patrick, you are my darling boy,” she said softly, gazing at him affectionately. “I love you and your brother both very much, but I must admit, your big heart and bright smile have always made me just a bit happier than most everything else, my dear. You are my baby,” she said, then shook her head sadly. “I just want what’s best for you. You may be angry at us for now, and it may be a shock to the senses to find that we deceived you, but I know that one day you will thank us-“

Patrick spluttered, absolutely appalled his mother seemed to believe the drivel coming from her mouth. “Thank you for what?! For deciding who I’ll spend the _rest of my life_ with without even asking for a vague opinion on the man? Lord Wentz is a total stranger to me! You are forcing me to _marry_ a person I have never heard of!” he stressed. “How is that what’s best for me?” he demanded, then held up a finger when she started to speak. “And _do not_ say that his title and wealth are at all worth it,” he spat and she floundered, falling silent. He scoffed. “Exactly. You know what mother?” he asked, shaking his head with a disappointed look. “You and father are no better than the rest of these fools,” he said sadly. “I honestly thought at some point that you two were like me, that you two weren’t bothered by frivolity and pointless garbage. But apparently, I was wrong,” he said, turning on his heels to stalk from the room, ignorant of his mother’s cries of his name.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brendon stared at the counter dejectedly while Spencer wandered around the shop. Patrick had asked Brendon to watch the shop so he could speak to his parents directly, and Spencer had offered to stay around for a while and keep Brendon company.

It was on Brendon’s fifth sad little sigh that Spencer was in hearing range. “Whatever is the matter?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned as he approached the counter, standing across from Brendon.

Brendon bit his lip, feeling his eyes stinging as he stared at the wedding announcement. “It’s just like my brothers and sisters all over,” he said softly.

Spencer leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked and Brendon glanced up.

“My- all my brothers and sisters were older and- and they got married off, most of them to people they didn’t know or like,” he said softly. “And now that I’ve got Patrick, he’s being married off too,” he said, biting his lip as it trembled a bit. He saw Spencer’s blue eyes soften some and he whimpered. “I’ll be alone again,” he whispered sadly.

Spencer shook his head. “Hey now, don’t talk like that,” he said, offering him a smile. “And besides, Patrick says it’s a mistake, surely it isn’t a real issue.”

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Yes, someone accidently reported that his parents were announcing his engagement to a man wealthier and higher ranking than they are. I know that story quite well, Mr. Smith.” He sighed weakly. “When someone’s parents swear them off to a richer, better person they never come back.”

“Spencer.” Brendon looked up in confusion, only to see a gentle, comforting smile on the face in front of him. “Patrick calls me it, you should to.”

Brendon smiled sadly. “Well, Spencer, I see it this way. I never saw any of my brothers or sisters again after they were married. The only reason I didn’t get married off was because I ran away,” he admitted. “Patrick took me in. Patrick takes care of me. What- what will I do when he’s gone?” he asked, then gasped, eyes widening in horror. “What if he sells the shop? Nobody else will let me live upstairs for free! Or closes it!” He put a hand over his mouth. “I have nowhere to go, I’ll be back on the streets! I have no home, no prospects… I’ll be left to starve or get killed by a murderer, or I’ll have to turn to a life of crime to eat and I’ll go to prison and I’ll be hanged!” he rambled. “Or I’ll have to resort to selling my body-“

Spencer fought a smile as the young man’s musings grew more and more farfetched. “Brendon-“

“I don’t want to sell my body!” Brendon continued. “I would have to sell my virtue for bread crumbs and I’ll be a fallen boy!”

“Brendon, please-“

Brendon just turned to him with wide, tear-brimming eyes. “I’ll be kidnapped into some terrible person’s harem and kept in a brothel!” he cried out and Spencer couldn’t hold back a hearty laugh. Brendon’s face fell and he pouted. “Stop laughing,” he demanded in a shy tone, cheeks staring to turn pink. “It could happen-“

“Oh Brendon, nobody will let you go to the streets,” he said, then gave him an amused smile. “And honestly, selling your virtue for bread crumbs? What happened to just getting another job?” he teased and Brendon’s cheeks grew darker by the moment.

“I… Patrick was the only one who would hire me last time,” he said and Spencer shook his head, smiling at him comfortingly.

“Brendon, I promise, before I let you resort to starving and-or selling your virtue only to end up in a brothel somewhere, I would offer you a position on my airship,” he said and Brendon rolled his eyes.

“What would I do an on airship?! I know no trades!” he said and Spencer grinned.

“Yes, but cleaning the galley would be a much better choice than ending up in a brothel,” he teased and Brendon gave him a glare that resembled an annoyed puppy. “Aww, I’m sorry, Brendon, but really, it was overreaction,” he defended.

Brendon just huffed. “You jest but I’m very protective of my person and I prefer it not to be violated. Being violated or killed is sort of a fear of mine,” he said, and Spencer just gave him an amused smirk. “What?!” he demanded, glowering.

Spencer just shook his head. “Nothing, I swear,” he said softly, then smiled. “Although I can see where someone of your beauty could fear for their virtue in a city like this. There are some horrible people out there and a face like yours surely attracts the attention of those you pass,” he complimented, and Brendon blinked, then ducked his head with a bashful look.

“Spencer Smith, do not perjure yourself,” he said in a sheepish tone, fighting a smile that Spencer saw creeping across his features. Brendon shook his head. “I’m just a poor boy who lives above a shop. I am nothing special in either looks, skills, or intelligence,” he denied.

Spencer just smiled. “Well, we all have our own opinions, don’t we?” he said dismissively, making Brendon turn pink once again.

Spencer was finding that he quite enjoyed that shade gracing the cheeks of the pretty shop keeper.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick cursed, earning a dark look from Brendon as he caught the broken part Patrick tossed to him. “Patrick Stump, that language is very unbecoming,” he said sternly and Spencer’s first mate smirked from his spot lounging along the side of the ship in case they needed him.

“Yes, Patrick, you can’t curse!” he teased and Brendon glowered at the man.

“He’s going to be _nobility_ soon! He has to start getting used to being a gentleman!” he said and Patrick groaned.

“Please let me forget while I can,” he said sadly, standing. “Alright, let me go find better tools, I’m sure the mechanic has some,” he said dejectedly, passing Spencer, who was coming down the gangplank, ducking under one of the lines with which the ship was tethered.

“How is it going?” he asked, and Brendon shrugged.

“He’s getting angry and throwing things and saying very not-nice words,” he said, then smiled. “But I’m not sure if it’s the broken ship or the sour disposition he’s had the last few days causing it,” Brendon answered, wiping his hands on his trousers as he stood.

“Apparently the cursing offends his delicate sensibilities,” the man leaning against the ship said.

Spencer shot him a look. “Ryan, hush,” he said, then smiled. “Don’t worry about him,” he said to Brendon, nodding at the first mate- Ryan. “He’s just grumpy,” he said.

Ryan scoffed. “Of course take his side-“

“I’m not taking sides, you’re just rude,” he said, grinning.

Ryan rolled his eyes again and Brendon wondered if he should warn him they could get stuck if he did that so much. “Whatever, how the hell is Patrick Stump going to be nobility?” he asked, and Spencer cringed.

“He’s marrying Lord Wentz, don’t you know?” he said and Ryan stared.

“Wentz? The widower?” he asked and Brendon looked up.

“A widower? He’s been married before?” he asked Spencer, who nodded, sitting on an upturned barrel.

“Yeah, his wife died just over a year ago,” he said, shaking his head. “Tragic way to go.”

Ryan nodded. “Yes it was.” He looked at Brendon, who looked confused. “She drowned,” he said, then blinked. “Or possibly burned, not sure,” he said and Brendon gasped.

“How ever did that happen?” he asked in shock.

Spencer cringed. “She was on a ferry to the Continent. The ferry caught fire in the middle of the Channel and sank. Half the passengers and most of the crew died. Most of their bodies were never found, but some were pulled from the water either burned up or having drowned. I don’t know if they found her body or not, but it was all in the papers about how Lady Wentz was the only Noblewoman on board who died. I believe her personal servant lived, but not the Lady.”

Brendon shook his head. “That poor woman,” he said with sympathy. “And he’s marrying a man now?” he asked, frowning. “Lord Wentz.”

Ryan smirked. “Lord Wentz received a great deal of criticism at the end of last summer about not choosing wife already. His wife died in the winter, but he has a son, so he was expected to marry a wife as soon as he found one suitable since a child needs a mother,” he said, and Spencer chuckled.

“And he is a very rebellious man. Before his father died he was the gossip of all the papers for having all these dalliances with commoners. He went to fishermen’s pubs and threw parties with the farmers and such,” he explained, and Ryan grinned.

“And had a few not-so-secret affairs with stable boys,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ve got a friend,” he said with a meaningful nod.

Brendon flushed. “ _Oh_ ,” he said bashfully.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Anyways, Lord Wentz was probably figuring marrying a man would anger society even more, but since he’s a Lord, nobody can really cause trouble for him marrying a man rather than a mother for his child.”

Brendon just snickered quietly. “I wonder if anybody’s bothered to tell Patrick he’s marrying someone with a child,” he said and Spencer cringed.

“He’s angry enough,” he said and Spencer sighed.

“Has he decided what to do with the shop?” he asked and Brendon shrugged.

“He told me he’s going to let me run it.” He huffed. “Clearly someone forgot to remind him about all the times I set things on fire,” he said with a small pout.

Spencer chuckled. “Well I’ll be sure to stop in to check that you’ve still got your eyebrows whenever I can,” he said and Brendon gave him a small smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he said in a small voice, ducking his head a little.

Spencer’s smile brightened just a bit until Ryan snorted. “Shut it, Ross,” he said, turning to glare at him. Brendon just flushed a little, turning to look at the ground until Patrick returned.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick sighed, looking around. “Well, I guess this is it,” he said, taking one last look around his beloved shop. He turned to Brendon, who was pouting at him dramatically. “Hey, don’t worry, I’ll be back to see you soon-“

“But you’re leaving,” Brendon said in a tiny voice, blinking. “You’re leaving and when they all left they never came back,” he argued and Patrick smiled.

“I’m going to be back to see you from time to time, I promise,” he said, walking over to take Brendon’s hand in his. “You’re going to run this shop well and I’ll be back to see you as soon and as often as I can come into town,” he promised.

Brendon just sniffled, throwing his arms around Patrick’s neck. “Please come back,” he whimpered, clinging to him. “Being alone is going to be so scary as it is, please come back sooner or later and at least make sure I’m not ruining your shop!” he begged and Patrick smiled sadly, patting his back.

“You won’t ruin it,” he chastised, then smiled, when Brendon stepped back. “And you won’t be too alone, Captain Smith has agreed to check in as often as he can,” he said and Brendon flushed a bit.

“Yes, he said as much,” he mumbled, looking away.

Patrick just shook his head, clearly amused. “For the record, Spencer is just as fond of you as you are of him, I can tell,” he teased and Brendon turned redder than a tomato.

“Patrick Stump! I am not _fond_ of him!” he denied, giggling. “He’s a captain of a ship, what would he want with a little shop keeper?” he asked shyly and Patrick scoffed.

“Oh I don’t know, whatever could an unmarried man with no family want with a handsome and available shop keeper who is alone as well?” he said pointedly. “You deserve a companion, you’re a sweet boy, Brendon,” he said, and Brendon grinned shyly.

“Is it so obvious I like him?” he asked and Patrick smirked.

“You turn pink more when he’s around than any other time.” Brendon sighed. “It’s very becoming,” he teased and Brendon groaned.

“I’m too young! I ran away from home because I didn’t want to get shoved off on some stranger. It’s stupid to be fond of a good man like Spencer Smith! He’s a captain of his own airship! He is so far above me-“

Patrick shook his head. “He _likes_ you!” He smiled. “You should get to know him better, Brendon. You need a friend.” He smiled at him fondly. “He’s a nice man. Very honorable,” he stressed. “You could do with a man like that in your life.”

Brendon giggled. “I don’t need to go rushing into finding a man in my life, Patrick. I’m only nineteen. I’m not even an adult!” he said and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Hey, if you decide to get married, call upon my mother, apparently she’s great at forging signatures, she’d be happy to falsify your parents’ permission,” he teased and Brendon laughed in spite of himself.

“That’s horrible, Patrick Stump!” he cried out, though he couldn’t stop his laughter at Patrick’s jest.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick wasn’t that nervous during the wedding ceremony. He was quite resigned, truth be told. He barely remembered saying a word because he was too busy hearing all the whispers going on behind them as they stood in front of the priest. He heard insults and jibes at his appearance, his inferiority to his husband, and his gender. He did recognize that his husband was at least young and somewhat good looking, which was a bit of a relief.

After all, he had to live with this man being his companion in public everywhere they went, and an old, ugly man would be embarrassing a bit.

At the reception, Patrick and his husband barely sat beside each other, busy socializing and getting dragged around and introduced to people in each other’s social circles. It wasn’t until after the reception, as they climbed into their carriage, that Patrick realized he would actually have to speak with Lord Wentz… his _husband_.

Lord Wentz, however, didn’t seem too bothered by the awkwardness. “So, we haven’t had a chance to really speak,” he said, offering Patrick a smile from his seat across from him in the covered carriage. “Hello,” he said brightly.

Patrick gave him a level, unamused look. “Hello as well,” he said, glancing back out of the carriage window.

“I did want to get to know you before the wedding, at least a little,” Lord Wentz said, giving him an apologetic look. “But your parents insisted we marry quickly, and it was such a hassle I barely had spare time to eat-“

Patrick scoffed. “Wonder why,” he muttered, glaring out the window.

Lord Wentz frowned. “I’m confused,” he said, looking at him. “Is there… is something the matter with your parents?” he asked and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“They wanted the marriage rushed so I couldn’t figure a way out of it without ruining my mother’s reputation,” he said flatly.

Lord Wentz gave him an affronted look. “Why would marrying me ruin your mother’s reputation? I mean, I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m a Lord-“

Patrick snapped. “Personally, I find nothing particularly impressive about that fact,” he said honestly. “And as for my mother’s reputation, she forged my signature on the marriage contract,” he said bitterly. “I had no intentions of marrying anyone, especially not _you_ ,” he said darkly, much to Lord Wentz’s shock.

“I- I had no idea,” he said and Patrick hummed.

“Of course not,” he said, then sighed. “If you had found out, obviously, you wouldn’t have wanted to be tied to an illegal action such as that. Clearly, they knew I would tell you to get out of marrying you,” he said simply.

Lord Wentz just stared. “So wait… your parents _tricked_ you into marrying me?” he asked, then huffed. “That is somewhat offensive,” he said and Patrick snorted. “No really, I wanted to cause a fuss by marrying a man, but I never wanted to force somebody to marry me!” he said, then gave Patrick a sympathetic look. “I am so sorry,” he said honestly. “There… there wasn’t someone else you wanted to marry was there?” he asked, cringing.

Patrick sighed. “No, Lord Wentz, I had no desire to marry at all. I am twenty-seven, if I had wanted to marry, surely you can figure I would’ve done it already,” he said pointedly.

Lord Wentz smiled gently. “Pete,” he said, and Patrick frowned.

“What?”

He laughed. “My name. Call me Pete,” he said, and Patrick raised an eyebrow. “What?” he asked, grinning. “I hate Peter and I can’t very well go every day listening to people in my home calling me Lord Wentz.” He made a face. “That would get annoying, I think,” he said, and Patrick just hummed uninterestedly, looking away.

After a moment, Lord Wentz- _Pete_ , Patrick reminded himself- spoke up. “What would you like me to call you?” he inquired.

Patrick shrugged. “Patrick. I’ve been stripped of my last name so I for the love of God don’t call me by any other name,” he said with a bitter snap to his voice.

Pete scoffed. “Great, thanks for that, I love knowing my name insults you so,” he said and Patrick turned around.

“I am insulted by it!” he said petulantly. “I had a nice, simple life and I’m sorry that it isn’t your fault I’m so damn bitter at this whole situation, but it’s still your name and _you_ that has inadvertently ruined my entire life, so yes, if you have to know, I’m insulted by your damned name,” he grumbled.

Pete just sighed, glancing out the window. “Great, I’ve just married someone who hates me,” he said, scoffing. They both avoided looking at each other as they settled in for the long ride out of the city, since the trains didn’t run towards their estate, so they would have to take a carriage from the village anyways, and Pete, apparently, hated flying.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When they got to the drive, Patrick perked up some. He was at least eager to see the new home he was going to be living in. When they went through large, stately looking gates, he was barely able to contain his gasp when he spotted the house at the end of the curving drive. It was _huge_. The front of the house was stone, with two sweeping staircases curving up to the veranda. The veranda itself wasn’t nearly as deep as it was long, with grand columns with sculpted capitals holding up the vast pediment, beyond which Patrick could see a large, glass rotunda. The wings to each side were fairly large, consisting of four stories of windows. 

When the carriage stopped, Pete and Patrick climbed out. Patrick watched as a pair of boys came from the small doorway in the center of the two staircases, beneath the veranda, to collect his trunks. Pete walked over to him, still stretching his arms out after the cramped ride. “Shall we go in?” he asked and Patrick nodded, allowing Pete to lead the way as they started up one side of stairs, up onto the veranda. The marble was a beautiful pale gray everywhere. Through the large windows on either side of the front doors, Patrick could see the front hall was lit by crystal chandeliers.

When they entered the hall, Patrick gazed around. There were paintings all over, as well as intricate molding and beautiful carvings. The floors were marble with deep red and gold carpets across them. The masterpiece of the room, however, was the grand staircase at the end of the hall. It swept up the center of the room to the landing and, as far as Patrick could see, the landing surrounded three sides of the hall all the way up with the stairs to each additional floor along the front wall so that the windows let in light. As he walked forward from under the staircase above the doorway, he gasped as he saw the brightness of the room was owed to the fact that the glass rotunda was centered above the hall three floors above his head.

“And I thought my family was rich,” he muttered to himself, flushing when he realized he said it out loud. He turned to apologize, but Pete was just chuckling softly.

“Yes, Lewiston Hall is very extravagant,” he agreed. “Growing up, it was like living in a museum, I could never touch anything. At least I’ve had most of the things that are priceless or breakable moved to the grand hall,” he said, shrugging. “I’m a little clumsy.”

Patrick had to smile. “Well, at least you admit you’re clumsy,” he said, and Pete gave him a grin for his trouble. Patrick wanted to like his husband, he did, but that matter of ‘ruining his life’ was still weighing heavily on his judgment. “Can I look around?” he asked, and Pete nodded.

“Of course, there’s nowhere off limits to you, I mean, it’s your home now too,” he said and Patrick nodded. “Although, if you wish to change out of these wedding clothes, I wouldn’t mind showing you how to get to the bedroom first,” he offered, and Patrick frowned.

“ _The_ bedroom?” he asked and Pete cringed.

“Oh, um… yeah about that,” he started and Patrick felt his blood run cold. He hoped dearly that Pete wasn’t about to say what he thought he would say. “Um, as huge as this house is, we don’t… really have a lot of the rooms furnished?” he said, shrugging. “I had most of the rooms closed up and gave the furniture to the villagers down the hill, so… there isn’t really a bedroom for you,” he said, sheepishly. “I just… there wasn’t a need… you know, before.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, but the only rooms opened and furnished are occupied and when I sent word for to my mother that I was remarrying, she didn’t really like the idea of me kicking the nanny out of her rooms for you-“

Patrick narrowed his eyes. “So we’re to share a room? Am I expected to be okay with no privacy?!” he demanded and Pete sighed.

“I’m very sorry, I promise-“

Patrick just groaned, too tired to argue. “Fine, whatever, just… lead me,” he said dejectedly.

Pete huffed but said nothing, starting up the staircase. Patrick followed at a slower pace. They turned left and walked down a corridor into the west wing of the house. Patrick was glad it wasn’t terribly far, just down one corridor and around the corner towards the back of the house. The corridors were wide and had plush carpets and beautiful tapestries along the walls. When they got to the end of the corridor, a set of double doors were there. Pete opened them both and stepped back to show Patrick into the room first.

Patrick had to admit, he was a bit taken aback when he entered possibly the largest bedroom he had ever seen. The bedroom seemed to stretch along the back of the house slightly left of center. There was a row of windows along the left wall. There was a large fireplace on the inner most wall of the room, with a chaise in front of it. The center ‘window’ was a door, which Patrick saw led out onto a terrace. Over in the corner in front of the window furthest towards the entrance to the room was a chess board and a set of tall-backed chairs on either side of it. To the right, past the fireplace, was a raised dais with three steps leading up to a large, elegant bed with beautiful dark wood and draperies that hung down on all sides, though there were drawn back as it was daytime and the bed had been made, presumably by a maid. There was a doorway to the left of the bed that was open to what appeared to be a large dressing room, and a doorway to the right of it that appeared to lead into a large washroom.

Across from the entrance directly was a large round table piled with books and papers with stubby candles dotting the surface. Patrick was somewhat surprised to see that Pete did work in his bedroom. He figured somewhere in the house there was an office or study or possibly both, neither of which a Lord would surely take his work away from.

Pete cleared his throat. “I’ll give you a moment,” he said and Patrick nodded. Pete whistling startled him for a moment until he noticed that, on a large cushion on the floor in front of the chaise, there was a fat, droopy looking bulldog curled up watching them. The dog leapt to its feet and trotted over to Pete, who smiled and slapped his thigh. “C’mon Hemingway, good boy!” he said, leading the dog out of the room.

Patrick just sighed, wondering if there were any more surprises awaiting him.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick wandered the floor for an hour or so, only getting lost once. He was just coming to the staircase, about to see what was on the fourth floor, when a timid looking boy came up to him. He recognized him as one of the boys who had unloaded his trunks. “Sir,” he said, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, peeking up through his messy curls. “Dinner is being served very soon and Pete requests that you join him in the informal dining room,” he said, looking somewhat frightened of Patrick.

Patrick blinked. “You call him Pete?” he asked and the boy nodded.

“Yes, sir. We all do,” he said, then turned to start away. “You can follow me, if you would like,” he said. Patrick followed him, a bit more puzzled that Pete allowed his servants to call him by his nickname as well than he was for the casual dress of the boy. He expected a Lord to have uniforms for his servants.

The informal dining room, Patrick discovered, was down the west wing on the first floor, not the main second floor, next to the kitchens. The servants quarters were in the right wing, the boy explained, and there was a common room for the servants beneath the front hall of the main floor that separated their quarters from the kitchens, storage, and washing up rooms. 

When Patrick entered the dining room, he saw a decent sized table, big enough for eight people at least, though it was only set for two, a place setting at either end. Pete was already seated at one end, so Patrick took a seat at the other. “Did you look around some?” Pete asked, and Patrick nodded.

“I did, for a while. The corridors are very beautiful,” he said and Pete nodded.

There was an awkwardness in the air that made Patrick pretty uncomfortable, so when their dinner was brought in by a serving girl, he helped himself to a bit more wine than he usually would have. Nothing much of substance was said between them, other than a few comments on the food, on the house, and Patrick asking about the dog from earlier, which led to a long tale of how Pete had gotten him as a puppy and an even longer tale about Pete’s love of dogs.

When Pete finally stopped talking, Patrick had had plenty to drink, and was feeling a bit less tight-lipped about his thoughts. One thought had been going through his mind all night. “If there’s no free bedrooms, where will you have your mistresses?” he asked out loud before slapping himself in the face. “Ooh damn that was supposed to be a thought,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?!” Pete asked in a startled voice. “My _what_?”

Patrick snorted. “Or male lovers if that’s your thing,” he allowed. “I mean, obviously you’re not laying a finger on me,” he said pointedly and Pete scoffed.

“Yes, your obvious disdain for me gave me that impression,” he agreed, and Patrick nodded a bit drunkenly.

“And even if you were getting your marital dues from me, you’re a _Lord_ so it’s not like you wouldn’t still have plenty of mistresses or lovers or whatever. So I’m just confused, because if there’s no empty beds, where the hell will you have them?” he pondered, humming thoughtfully. “Well, unless you sleep with your servants in their quarters,” he said, then blinked. “OH wait, is that why they call you by your nickname?” he asked, glancing at Pete.

Pete just stared at him, utterly shocked. “I’m not sure if I should be more offended you think I would keep mistresses and lovers out of my loyal staff and take advantage of these lovely people, or that you think I would be unfaithful to my spouse,” he said in a cold voice. 

Patrick snorted. “It’s not just you, it’s ALL nobles. The whole lot of you think it’s bloody well near enough to your duty to bed as many people as you possibly can and produce at least half a dozen illegitimate children, it’s all you men do,” he said, then hummed. “I’ve always been curious,” he said, swaying a bit as he leaned forward, as though the table between them wasn’t large enough to make his lean not matter in the least. “How do you hide illegitimate children? Have them killed? Send them away? I’ve always wondered because I know it has to happen, nobody has that many mistresses without some children-“

“How _dare_ you!” Pete cried, outraged. Patrick just blinked, looking confused. “You- do you honestly believe I would have mistresses or lovers?! Marriage is a legal, binding contract and I gave my _word_ to be faithful! My honor rests on complete fidelity and you suggest I would not only break my promise, but kill or send away any children resulting from that breach of contract?!” he asked, shaking his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Patrick scoffed. “It’s what nobility does. It’s how they live. Hell, I do think it’s disgusting and dishonest, and completely wrong but can you blame them?” he asked, swaying a bit as he waved a hand. “Look at you! You’ve just married a total stranger! I had absolutely no option. Sure, I plan on being faithful because I’ve got no reason not to, not like I had any interest in having lovers before, but I never get to find someone I’m truly fond of, do I? You! You say you don’t break your word, but imagine how it will be if you ever meet a girl you really fancy? You can’t be with her then,” he said, shaking his head. “Honestly, I can’t blame nobility for taking lovers when all you get is married to people you don’t know.”

Pete just stared at him and shook his head. “I hope this drunkenness isn’t a habit of yours, because I promise, it is very unbecoming,” he said bitterly, standing to leave without another word.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick made it downstairs and had a light breakfast, still a bit unsettled after how much wine he had drank the night before, he was informed that Pete was already up and about. When he had woken up and noticed the other side of the bed untouched, Patrick had felt guilty at the realization that he’d ran the man out of his own bed with his behavior.

When he was walking upstairs to the main floor, determined to go explore more of the house, he found the back corridor was lined with windows. He decided to walk that way, admiring the lovely paintings and tapestries, as he explored further. However, before he could really explore the rooms along the hall, he was distracted by a movement outside the window. He walked over and gasped as he saw the gardens. There were perfectly landscaped hedges and beautifully sculpted flowerbeds with gravel walks interlaced the whole way. Beyond the gardens, Patrick could see what looked like miles of land. There was a lake visible between the trees at the bottom of the hill with a lined walk leading down to the water from the garden. He could only see a select area of the back from his vantage point, but one thing he could see was that, on the stone veranda’s steps, near the bottom, was Pete throwing a stick for his dog.

Patrick decided to find the doors and go speak to Pete. He followed the corridor until he reached the end, surprised to see a glass-paned door. He walked into what appeared to be a very large sitting room with beautiful furniture, high ceilings, and golden, intricately accented walls. To his left was a set of French doors leading out onto the veranda, which he chose to take, even though the wooden double doors opposite the French doors intrigued him.

As Patrick walked out onto the veranda, Pete turned at the sound of his footsteps. He glanced at Patrick, then turned away, receiving the stick the dog brought him before tossing it away again. Patrick walked down to stand a few feet off to the side. Pete sighed. “Good morning,” he said, and Patrick bit his lip.

“Good morning,” he replied, ducking his head. “Alright, I’ll just… come out with it,” he said, cringing. “Last night I made a right ass of myself and I am truly sorry.” He looked up. “And I didn’t mean to run you out of your own room,” he said, and Pete sighed, shaking his head with a sad smile.

“Well, I don’t sleep much anyways, so it wasn’t that much of a bother,” he said honestly. He turned to Patrick. “All the things you said… is that what you really expect?” he asked, and Patrick flushed from the shame.

“I didn’t mean you specifically. I just…” He sighed, sitting down on the step. “I don’t like rich people,” he said simply.

Pete scoffed. “Yes, because you are by far the poorest person you know,” he said, sitting as well.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I don’t live the life style my parents do. I lived in their house, yes, but I don’t go out in public, I don’t socialize with all of these arrogant, self-centered, frivolous, stupid people that were in their social circles,” he said, cringing. “I worked in a shop,” he said honestly. “My friends were poor, honest, hard-working people. I know they are honest and hard-working because they have to be, what with the whole ‘poor’ thing, but it’s not my experience that _why_ someone is a good person matters.”

Pete smiled, clearly amused. “So naturally, you assume all rich people are arrogant and self-centered?”

Patrick turned to him and gave him a challenging look. “Aren’t they? Be honest,” he said, putting his elbows on his knees. “Think of all you peers, all your business associates and what not, how many of them aren’t horrible people?”

Pete gave him a long look, then shrugged. “Alright, maybe a lot of them are, but not _all_ ,” he defended.

Patrick sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at him. “You know, I said some terrible things. I am very sorry for implying you were as bad as the rest, but in my defense, it had been a very long day and I had just been forced to marry a stranger, after all,” he said, waving a hand.

Pete chuckled, giving him a smirk. “Yes, I can imagine it was a pretty stressful day,” he allowed, then sighed. “I just feel bad, honestly. You expect that all of the nobility are terrible people and you have to interact with them now,” he said, making Patrick sigh.

“Yes, I was a bit bitter about that, too,” he agreed. “Do you have any idea how much I _hate_ pointless formality and frivolous living?” he asked, and Pete grinned impishly.

“Yes, I actually can,” he said, only to be interrupted by a loud cry.

“Daddy!”

Patrick started when Pete jumped up and smiled a bright, genuine smile, finding his feet just in time to catch the child leaping into his arms. Patrick raised an eyebrow as Pete stumbled back a few steps but, rather than being angry at the child, he instead lifted him onto his hip, holding him in his arms. Patrick had never really seen a _father_ holding their child past infancy, and even then, only when necessary. 

“You let him call you ‘daddy’?” Patrick asked curiously. He’d heard of such in passing, a word some of the poor families allowed their children to call them since they didn’t have the time to teach the child properly to call its parents ‘mother’ and ‘father’ when it was learning to speak, but never in the upper classes, and _definitely_ not someone whose child was heir to their title.

Pete turned to look at him and nodded. “Of course,” he said like it was the simplest thing ever. “Patrick, meet Bronx,” he said, and the little boy turned to look at Patrick. “Bronx, this is Patrick,” he said and the boy smiled a big smile that greatly resembled his father’s.

Patrick offered the child a smile. “Hello-“ He paused. “Wait, what is his name?” he asked, fairly sure he’d never heard that name before.

Pete grinned impishly. “Bronx. There’s a village in America west of New York where my late wife and I vacationed that’s called Bronxville. When Bronx came, I convinced her that a non-traditional name would be best,” he said, smiling at the child. “You may have noticed, I’m not exactly the best at doing what I’m meant to do,” he said, shrugging. “I was being pressured to give him a mother, so I married a man,” he pointed out and Patrick chuckled, very much amused.

“How old are you, Bronx?” Patrick asked, and Bronx giggled, kicking some.

“I’m four-“

Pete tutted. “You’re five, you know that,” he chastised and the boy looked at his hand, poking his fingers, then frowned.

“Oh yes, that many is five,” he said, holding up his hand to show Patrick. “I’m five.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow when Pete kissed the boy’s cheek, then put him down. “How about you go play with the dog,” he suggested and the little boy gasped excitedly as he saw the bulldog chewing on his abandoned stick.

“HEMMY!” he cried, rushing down the steps, all but jumping on the dog, trying to make him play.

Patrick frowned. “Won’t it bite him?” he asked, and Pete shook his head, smiling contently.

“Oh no, Hemingway has been around longer than Bronx, so he’s quite used to him.” He turned to Patrick and nodded. “So, that’s my son,” he said, and Patrick snickered.

“I’d say so,” he said, and Pete raised an eyebrow. Patrick rolled his eyes. “Other than his hair, he looks like a slightly smaller version of you,” he said, and Pete shot him a look.

“ _Slightly_ smaller? If that was a jab at my stature, I feel the need to point out I’m several inches taller than you,” he said and Patrick smirked.

“Yes, but I’m a very short man,” he said, then turned back. “You aren’t… like most fathers,” he muttered and Pete shrugged, developing a serious face.

“Most fathers are cold and just tolerate their children until they’re of use to them. It’s horrible,” he said, shaking his head. “Bronx is…” He trailed off and Patrick saw an odd softness in his features. “He’s the center of my world,” he said honestly, turning back to Patrick. “And I am not ashamed of showing my affections openly. He’s my baby,” he said softly.

Patrick hummed, nodding. “You’re not like most people, Pete,” he said and Pete chuckled.

“That is definitely true,” he agreed hollowly. “But I don’t regret it. People give me looks about letting my son call me ‘daddy’ and they look down on me for taking him with me places, since children are meant to barely be seen before they’re old enough to be a part of society, but I love him,” he said simply. “A parent should always love their child. A child isn’t a bargaining chip in a business transaction that should be ignored until they’re of age to be useful. They’re gifts from God, in my opinion. I wouldn’t trade my child for anything in the world.”

Patrick smiled. “I like that,” he said, and Pete raised an eyebrow. Patrick chuckled. “You’ve heard my drunken disdain for stupid, proper people. I’ve never heard of someone really enjoying their children. Definitely not a father. I have mothers come into my shop dragging their children around like little dogs to show off or something, but very rarely do they even seem to notice the way they smile and laugh when they play with the birds. I always liked that more than the money their mothers paid for trinkets. Children really enjoy things the way adults don’t.” He shrugged, ducking his head when he realized he was rambling. “I just… I like that you actually care for your son. Children are honest and I like honesty, is all.”

Pete smiled, clearly amused. “See? We have something in common after all.” He nodding at the dog and boy. “Would you like to spend the morning with us? Maybe you’ll come to find you don’t hate _all_ wealthy people,” he said and Patrick smiled, then gave Pete an appraising look.

“Well, I may as well, I’m sure my life will be much easier if I at least give you a chance to be a friend, not judge you based on your status,” he agreed and Pete grinned.

“Come on then! I do believe Hemingway would enjoy a walk,” he said eagerly, walking down the steps to stoop down and speak to the little boy.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick spent most of the morning walking around the Garden with Pete and Bronx, occasionally dealing with a fat bulldog getting his muddy paws on his trousers. He mostly just observed his companions, occasionally interjecting a thought or answer to a question. They were just alike, the father and child. Patrick was pleasantly surprised to see Pete playing with his child, running around together, trying to catch each other. It was hard to regard the man as ‘Lord Wentz’ and face the disdain he felt for the nobility when he was running around laughing just as much as the five year old child that accompanied him.

The boy didn’t seem to really notice Patrick was there. Patrick was worried the child might be afraid of him, as he was a stranger, but he mostly seemed to not care very much since his father was proving to be enough of a distraction. Patrick had to wonder how the boy, who looked very much like his father, had gotten what were presumably his mother’s hair color and eye color. Every time the little boy laughed and Pete laughed with him, their expressions were almost identical. 

Whenever they finally all headed in to get some lunch, the same curly haired boy from the evening before was just coming out the door to the veranda. Pete smiled. “You were just coming to get us, weren’t you, Ian?” he asked, and the boy nodded.

“Yes, sir. Victoria demands Bronx gets some food and then goes back to her for afternoon lessons. I figured you two would be hungry as well,” he said, not meeting Patrick’s eyes. 

Bronx pouted and deflated. “I don’t want to do lessons!” he told Ian, who just ruffled his hair.

“You need to be smart like your father, though!” he said and Pete poked Bronx in the cheek playfully. 

“Yeah, you can be really smart and that way when you get an actual tutor in a few years he’ll be so happy you’re smart he won’t be mean,” he said and Bronx huffed, shuffling his little feet as they walked inside. “Oh don’t be that way,” Pete said and Bronx grumbled.

“But why do I have to _read_? Reading and letters are no fun!”

Patrick blinked. “He’s learning to _read_?” he asked in surprise. 

Pete nodded proudly. “He can already spell plenty of words,” he said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they followed Ian the way Patrick had come outside, heading to the kitchen. “He’s a very bright little boy, he just has trouble concentrating,” he said and Ian laughed from ahead of them.

“Just like his father, huh, Pete?” he teased and Pete rolled his eyes.

“Yes, in fact I think I’ll suddenly have trouble concentrating when it comes to your name in the payroll this month,” he teased and Patrick smiled, amused at their banter.

When they got to the first floor, they headed straight to the kitchen, a place Patrick hadn’t been before. As soon as they walked in, there was a frighteningly tall woman with dark hair standing at the large preparing table in the center of the room. “Ah Victoria,” Pete said and the woman turned, standing to her full height.

“Pete, I told Bronx he could come outside for a little while, but when I went to get him, you had run off with him,” she accused and Bronx crawled up onto a chair to look at the berries being chopped by another tall person with interest. Patrick could just see him waiting for the man to turn around before stealing a few.

Pete huffed. “He wanted to play!” he defended, then looked over. “Besides, he was getting to know Patrick,” he said, and Patrick froze some when the woman’s gaze settled on him.

“How is it you found someone even shorter than you?” she asked Pete, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

Pete grinned. “Luck I guess,” he said, winking at Patrick. “Anyways, Ian said there’s food!” he said eagerly before going over to join his son, badgering the tall man chopping berries.

Patrick just watched in amusement as both father and son waited until the man turned to go get something else before stealing several berries each with devious little smirks shared between them.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After lunch, Pete and Patrick went on a walk without Bronx this time. “I want to show you around some,” Pete had said simply, and Patrick agreed.

They got down to the far end of the house, where Patrick could see there was a glass conservatory with yet another garden outside, between the conservatory and a barn. “You have a lot of gardens,” Patrick noticed and Pete smiled.

“I like outdoors. I employ a wonderful gardener and he and the groundskeeper share a group of landscapers. They keep the place very nicely manicured,” he said and Patrick nodded.

“The grounds, this house… it’s all _huge_ ,” he said, and Pete chuckled.

“Well, my family once was a lot larger and a lot more involved in the social life around them than the way things are now.” He shrugged. “And nobility used to mean more. It doesn’t bother me that much, but now it’s mostly just for show. I really have no actual power, since I’m not a descendant of the royal family.” He smiled. “Nobility of the Queen’s blood is the kind that counts now.”

Patrick nodded. “What is your actual title?” he asked. “I never bothered asking. The ‘Lord’ in front of your name was all I needed to hear before I got sort of belligerent,” he admitted. “I just assumed, seeing as I’m not a member of the nobility, your ‘lord’ was that of a Baron, but clearly-“ He waved a hand at the house. “That isn’t exactly the manor of a Baron,” he said and Pete chuckled.

“I’m an Earl,” he explained. “So technically you have the honorable title of ‘lord’ as well when people refer to you,” he added and Patrick made a face.

“Please don’t,” he said and Pete laughed.

“Come on, you’ll get used to it, I promise,” he teased.

Patrick groaned. “Great, so not only did I lose my last name, I gained an honorary title in place of it. God, my friends will _never_ let that one go without hours of teasing,” he said, shaking his head.

Pete just smiled, clearly amused. “I like you, your surliness is funny,” he said and Patrick narrowed his eyes at him. Pete grinned. “What? It is! You look very annoyed and it’s quite amusing.”

Patrick sighed. “Curse of a redhead, sadly. I have a temper problem,” he warned. “Which is also what led to those terrible things I said yesterday. I really am sorry, again,” he said and Pete waved a hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said, then nodded to the conservatory. “There’s a lovely little fountain with little fish in it. Would you like to see?” he asked, and Patrick nodded, allowing Pete to change the topic.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After the first few days, Pete had to get back to doing more work- Patrick wasn’t sure what an Earl did in modern times, but it meant meeting with people a lot- and Patrick was left exploring even more of the house on his own. Sometimes various members of the staff would accompany him through certain rooms or corridors. He was shocked to find that the small boy with the curly hair wasn’t really much of a boy at all. He was only a few years younger than Patrick. Ian, as Patrick found he liked to be called, was always chattering about things that happened in whatever room they came across.

The gardener, Patrick discovered, was very funny. He had showed Patrick each and every spot where a damaged hedge had been caused by Pete’s dog getting stuck since his short little legs wouldn’t allow him the maneuvering to unstick himself from the tangle of branches. Apparently, Pete’s affinity for animals extended to a crotchety tom cat in the hay loft that refused to let anybody but Pete touch him. Joe, as the gardener was called, showed him all of the scars on his hands from where he’d attempted repeatedly to make friends.

“But I never give up,” he said determinedly one afternoon.

The very next day, Patrick had found new bandages all over his fingers, and couldn’t hold in a laugh.

Besides Joe, there was a groundskeeper that Patrick never seemed to see, though he got messages from Joe almost daily that the groundskeeper admired him for keeping to the paths and not walking through the gardens like everybody else tended to do. He clearly respected a person who respected nature, or something of the sort. Patrick just found it amusing how quirky and casual the staff of Lewiston Hall was.

On one of his explorations by himself, he remembered he had never taken the double doors on the main floor that were opposite the French doors out onto the back veranda. He passed through the beautifully furnished room and tried the doors, only to discover they were locked. Much to his consternation, he couldn’t get in. 

He found another set of doors locked behind the stairs in the front hall, but he had to admit he wasn’t nearly as intrigued because there were enough interesting rooms on the main floor without going through those double doors. He figured it was probably a parlor of some sort, due to its place opening into the front hall.

That set of doors in the sitting room were going to bother him, he just knew it.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick was just having a lovely dream about flying around on an airship with Brendon and Spencer, accompanied by Ian, for some reason, when he was startled awake by a knee to his ribs. “Daddy?”

Patrick groaned, rolling over, only to frown when he saw Bronx sitting on the bed beside his face. “What?”

Bronx pouted. “You’re not daddy,” he said softly and Patrick sat up, rubbing at his face. He glanced over at the other side of the bed, taking note that it had been slept in, but was empty. In the several weeks they had been married, not once had Patrick actually _seen_ Pete either go to bed or wake up. He either came to bed after Patrick was already asleep and got up before he was awake, or didn’t come at all. 

Patrick sighed, yawning. “No, I’m not,” he said, looking over at the look on his little face. His eyes were wide and his brow furrowed as he pouted. “Are you alright?” he asked, and Bronx shook his head, sniffling.

“I had a bad dream,” he said and Patrick gave him a sympathetic little smile. “Where is daddy?” he asked, looking upset.

“I don’t know,” he said and Bronx looked even more upset. 

“But he always tells me stories when I have a bad dream, where is he?” he asked and Patrick shushed him.

“Hey, don’t be afraid,” he said, sitting up fully, sliding out of bed. “I’ve got an idea,” he whispered, offering the little boy a smile. Bronx eyed him curiously, but crawled until he was at the edge of the bed before sliding off the side, his sleep-shirt nearly making him trip as he stumbled down the steps of the raised dais a bit.

Patrick led him over to the chaise in front of the fire, and patted the plush cushions. “Sit here, I’ll be right back,” he said, and Bronx crawled onto the piece of furniture, leaning over the side to pat lightly at sleeping Hemmingway’s head as he lounged on a giant cushion right in front of the fire that burned at night, since the house grew drafty even in the warm summer weather.

Patrick walked over to the table where Pete’s books were strewn and picked up the box he had left there just that afternoon, after digging it out of his trunk to tinker with its contents just a bit. He took out his favorite of all his hummingbirds, winding the key up to wake her for the first time since the night Brendon took paints and painted her wings red and blue before returning her to Patrick before he left. Brendon said the red and blue stripes would look purple at the rate in which her wings flapped once she flew, and Patrick wished, as he released her, that it was light enough in the room to see. 

He walked back to where Bronx was sitting, trusting his hummingbird to follow him. When he sat on the chaise next to Bronx, the mechanical clicking of the birds gears and the soft buzz from its wings caught his attention and he gasped, eyes lighting up. “A bird!” he said brightly, smiling as it buzzed past. “Where did you get it?” he asked, and Patrick smiled.

“I made it,” he said and Bronx gave him a look like he told him he had parted the sea. “I build things, little inventions, you know?” he said, and Bronx smiled brightly as the bird flittered around.

“But how do you make it fly?” he asked and Patrick smiled at the look of awe on his little face. It was his favorite thing about inventing. “Is it magic?”

Patrick smiled back. “Well, sort of. It’s science,” he said, holding out his palm until the bird landed. “Want to touch it?” he offered and Bronx reached out, petting its little head, giggling softly when it shook.

“Are you sure it isn’t magic?” he asked and Patrick grinned playfully.

“You never know, maybe it is,” he teased, letting the bird fly again as he sat back against the arm. Bronx watched it for a moment before turning to thoughtlessly crawl into Patrick’s lap. Patrick stilled, unused to a the situation. 

“Tell me a story,” Bronx said, laying his head on Patrick’s chest, looking at the fire.

Patrick frowned. “I… don’t know any,” he said and Bronx pouted up at him. Patrick hummed. “I have an idea,” he said, curling his arm uneasily around the child’s back, though he relaxed some as he started to sing, his own tiredness creeping back over him.

He continued to sing softly, mostly nonsensical ditties, until he felt Bronx go limp in his arms. He couldn’t fight the part of him that warmed as he brushed the little boy’s curly blond hair from his face and saw how peaceful he looked as he slept. He examined the little boy and couldn’t fight the wave of affection. He was such a beautiful child. He was a happy, adventurous, fun-loving child and Patrick loved that sense of freedom. He truly admired his husband’s clear love for his son. His own parents, in his opinion, were very indulgent to him his whole childhood, but he had no memories of even his mother ever playing with him or holding him the way Pete did Bronx. 

He loved children. Patrick had always enjoyed them. He didn’t have any personal experience with them, but the ones who came to his shop put a lightness in his heart. As he sat, humming continually, even though Bronx was asleep already, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get to be around a little boy who hadn’t ever known anything but love and affection from his father. Pete wasn’t so bad and Bronx was fun to be around, even if he wasn’t sure about the whole ‘how to behave around someone’s child’ thing yet.

It wasn’t until he nearly nodded off, jerking his head up at the last moment, that he figured maybe he should get back to bed. He carefully stood, holding Bronx, and turned around so that he could lay him down on the chaise. He bit his lip and walked over to take a blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed, putting it over Bronx so that he didn’t get cool, even though he was in front of the fire. When he went back to bed, he left the curtains around the bed open so that Bronx wouldn’t think he was alone if he woke up before morning.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick woke up to a hand on his arm and groaned. “Bronx, go back to sleep,” he groaned, only to freeze when the chuckle he heard was clearly adult. He turned over and looked up, only to see Pete standing beside him. “Oh,” he sighed, rubbing his face. “Yes?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Pete awkwardly held out his hand. “Sorry about this,” he said, and Patrick gasped as he saw his hummingbird sitting on Pete’s palm with a broken wing, fluttering its other wing uselessly.

“Oh no, what happened to you?” he asked, sitting up fully to lift the bird, holding it in his palms. “You poor thing,” he said, petting her little shiny head.

Pete gave him an apologetic look. “Hemmingway apparently decided to catch it,” he said, then smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing it curiously. “Where did you get it? It’s beautiful, unlike any mechanical bird I’ve ever seen,” he said, gazing at its colorful wings reverently. “Who paints them?”

Patrick chuckled. “Brendon painted its wings so that when they’re flapping it’s purple, from the red and blue blending.” He petted the bird’s head. “And I made it, I’ll just fix her wing,” he said dismissively. “I’ve got a few tools in my trunk still. I couldn’t leave them _all_ ,” he said and Pete stared.

“You built it? I know you said you like tinkering, but… you build mechanical animals?” he asked curiously.

Patrick nodded. “I told you about my shop, right?”

Pete chuckled, amused. “You mentioned you owned a shop and that you liked to tinker, but… I didn’t think… well-“

Patrick grinned shyly. “I invent things. My birds are children’s favorites, though. I brought this one with me since Brendon painted her for me.”

Pete nodded. “Brendon is?” he asked and Patrick glanced down at the bird.

“My shop keeper now, I guess. He’s got a gift for tinkering, but he does create some really strange messes,” he said, chuckling. “Never met a person before who can set metal on fire,” he said and Pete laughed.

“I probably could, I’m clumsy.” He looked over and Patrick glance through the open curtains at the foot of the bed to see Bronx still asleep on the chaise. “What happened?” Pete asked curiously.

Patrick smiled sadly. “He came looking for you. Said he had a nightmare and you told him stories when he did,” he said and Pete cringed.

“Damn, I’m sorry I wasn’t here, I hope he didn’t bother you too much,” he apologized and Patrick shot him a look.

“He was scared, he’s allowed to bother me,” he argued. He smiled and shrugged. “I can’t tell stories for anything, but I let her-“ He lifted the hand with the hummingbird. “Fly and he watched her while I sang him to sleep.” He glanced over at the child. “Didn’t take him long to fall asleep.”

Pete gave Patrick a look Patrick didn’t really understand. “You sang him to sleep?” he asked, and Patrick nodded curiously. Pete ducked his head with a shy smile. “I didn’t know you could sing,” he said and Patrick flushed, looking away.

“Well, I’m not the best singer in the world, but he’s a child. I remember my governess singing to me when I was small.” He looked up. “Although it was a bit strange to hold a child. I’ve never so much as spent more than a few moments showing toys and mechanical gadgets to children in my shop before, so holding a child for a little while wave very odd.”

Pete smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t make him get down,” he said earnestly. “I’m sorry for not warning you he did that, but whenever he has bad dreams, they’re usually quite terrible. I’m just glad he didn’t run in screaming,” he said and Patrick startled some.

“He has nightmares that horrible?” he asked, and Pete sighed, looking down at his lap.

“Well, he is old enough to understand that his mother drowned,” he said softly and Patrick felt a sharp pain at the idea of that poor little boy’s loss. He was an adult and couldn’t imagine losing his mother. Surely if Pete was so tactile with him, his mother must’ve been very close to him. Pete scoffed darkly. “It took weeks to get him to bathe without me in the bath with him to make sure he didn’t drown,” he said sadly.

Patrick just bit his lip. “I guess I assumed he didn’t know how it happened,” he admitted. “How does he know? He couldn’t have been but three when… when you lost your wife,” he said uneasily.

Pete smiled sadly, glancing over at his son. “He’s a very smart child. And I don’t think he understood then exactly what happened, but he overheard some of the adults speaking and somehow he worked out that his mother went into the water and didn’t come out again alive. He must’ve worked it out on his own. I never wanted him to have that knowledge. It was terrible explaining to a three year old where his mother went,” he said, shaking his head.

Patrick cringed. “Was… were they as close as you and him are?” he asked and Pete chuckled softly, shaking his head. 

“No, not at all, but she was still his mother, you know?” he said. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be honest, his mother wasn’t very close with anyone,” he said and Patrick frowned.

“If you and your wife weren’t very close, why did you wait so long to remarry?” he asked curiously. “I mean, I didn’t hear it, but after I found out who I was supposed to marry, I asked around. From what I hear, you waited a year and a half to remarry. When there’s a child involved, that’s quite a long time for a man to remain unmarried.”

Pete gave him a long look. “The same reason we weren’t very close. His mother was forced into marrying me the same as you.”

Patrick immediately felt guilty for all of his complaining at the start. “Oh.”

Pete nodded. “Yeah, I was really sorry you were forced into this because it wasn’t a good thing last time.” He groaned. “God, Patrick, I’m pretty sure you like me better after… what, has it been two months yet?” he asked, and Patrick laughed.

“Yes, nearly two and a half,” he teased and Pete smiled. 

“Well, you probably like me better now after this short of time than she ever did, and we were married nearly five years,” he said pointedly. 

Patrick smiled sadly. “Did you like her?” he asked gently.

Pete turned to face Patrick, pulling his legs up to cross between them, mirroring Patrick’s position, only above the covers as Patrick was below still. “I did,” he said, then smiled nostalgically at the wall to his left. “I loved her,” he admitted and Patrick gasped softly. “Not seriously, I don’t think. I liked her well enough at first, we’d spoken plenty of times before we married. She was pretty, and I grew to like her very much pretty fast, because it was just so much fun to have a companion,” he said, then shrugged. “When she was pregnant with Bronx, I think I started to love her because I was so happy I was going to be a father,” he admitted. “She was the mother of my child, and my child is the center of my world. He was before I even met him, in a way. It confused nearly everyone that I was a man, a man with a title no less, and I was so involved even before he was born.”

Patrick smiled. “I like that,” he admitted. “I’ve always thought children were the most honest, genuine form of people there are. I feel as if God creates them as perfect beings, and then we adults ruin them by not nurturing them and teaching them correctly. So when I found out how odd but good you are with your son, I was pleasantly surprised, is that stupid?” he wondered and Pete smiled at him fondly.

“No, because I feel the same way about children. They are perfect in every way.” He sighed. “So, I wanted to do my best to make sure my child remained as perfect as possible as he grew.” He shrugged. “Ashlee was a decent mother, she didn’t let Victoria do _everything_. She still had a wet-nurse for him rather than nurse him herself, which I would’ve preferred, since he was her child, but whatever the case, she was still a good mother,” he pressed. “However, after he wasn’t an infant anymore, after he wasn’t as much of a new and exciting thing, she lost a little interest,” he admitted. “She was never a bad mother,” he reaffirmed and Patrick nodded. “But I still spent more time with him than she did.”

Patrick gave him a sympathetic look. “I am sorry,” he said softly. “I realize it has to be odd coming from me, of all people, but I am very sorry you lost your wife,” he said. “I’m sure she was a lovely person if she was such a good mother and wife,” he said and Pete snorted, startling him.

“I’m sorry,” Pete said quickly, then shook his head. “She was so far from a good wife,” he admitted and Patrick frowned. Pete picked at the sheets, looking down. He glanced over to make sure Bronx wasn’t awake to hear them, then turned back. “Let’s just say there was a reason I grew so angry when you asked about my mistresses and lovers,” he said and Patrick gasped.

“Oh!” he said, then shook his head. “Really? I just… alright, this will sound rude again, but it’s generally _men_ with titles who are overlooked when they have more bed partners than their spouse,” he said and Pete scoffed.

“It was overlooked because I couldn’t bear the shame of making it public that I, Lord Wentz, was the fool with a wife who had more lovers than she did friends,” he said bitterly. “Obviously, when I found out I was outraged. I felt betrayed because _I_ believe in honesty,” he pushed. He looked into Patrick’s eyes, trying to prove himself. “I believe in keeping my word, and I made a promise to be loyal.” He hissed angrily. “I honestly feared for a few weeks that Bronx wasn’t my son,” he said and Patrick offered him a smile.

“Well, rest assured, there is no worry for that,” he said and Pete smiled proudly.

“Yes, he definitely has my smile. And the shape of my eyes, even if he has his mother’s hair and eye color,” he said and Patrick laughed.

“The first time I saw him, when you picked him up and spun him around, both of you were smiling and it was the exact same,” he admitted, making Pete beam.

“I would feel bad, since I have a rather frightening smile, but knowing for sure that he looks too similar to not be my son is the greatest knowledge I have,” he said earnestly. “He could’ve been some lover’s child and I couldn’t have known, had he not had my smile.”

Patrick caught his hand. “I am still sorry I accused you of keeping mistresses with such a wound on your mind,” he said and Pete looked surprised to see Patrick touching him. Patrick just smiled bravely, not releasing his hand. “Although,” he said gently. “It wouldn’t bother me too much if you did,” he admitted and Pete’s face fell. “No, look.” He sighed, looking down at his hand in Pete’s. “I am not much of a husband to you,” he said earnestly. “And to be honest, I don’t think I could be even if I were to try. I just… don’t think of you like that,” he said and Pete shook his head.

“It isn’t your fault, you had no desire to marry me. I know that now.” He turned his hand and slid his and Patrick’s palms together. “But I could never feel true to my own heart if I broke the vow of loyalty I made to you. And I would like to hope you won’t either,” he said apologetically.

Patrick snorted, rolling his eyes. “I never had a mind for love, Pete,” he said softly, smiling at him. “Hell, I’m pretty sure I was the only boy in my school, after I finished with a tutor, that didn’t go off drinking and visiting ladies of the night every week,” he said and Pete laughed.

“Well, I have to admit, I had my fair share of dalliances with boys when I was younger,” he said bashfully. “But I’ve always been too eager to hand my heart away without thinking of consequences. I was a very foolish boy,” he admitted. “I think I was ‘in love’ every other month, even if I didn’t get a chance to pursue it.”

Patrick smiled, shrugging. “Well, I don’t think I’ve felt any sort of love other than maybe brotherly affection for anyone in my life, though my mother swears I used to blush at every officer who passed through town,” he said, grinning.

Pete looked at him curiously. “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-seven,” he said and Pete blinked.

“Wow, you don’t look a day over twenty,” he admitted. “I knew you were at least twenty-one, since you… well,” he rolled his eyes. “Your mother, but at the time I thought it was you, signed your marriage agreement.”

Patrick laughed. “People have that reaction,” he teased. “What about you?” he asked, eyeing the lines around his eyes. “I assume quite older than me.”

Pete shook his head. “Not really. I mean, yes, older, but I’m thirty-five. Less than ten years, even,” he said and Patrick eyed his face and the lines there.

“What on earth has done so much to weather you?” he asked softly, looking at the bags beneath Pete’s eyes and the sallowness of his skin.

Pete shrugged. “I’m a walking contradiction,” he admitted. “I am so energetic and happy when I am around people, but whenever I’m alone, I don’t think I can ever feel joy,” he whispered, looking down at Patrick’s hand, tracing a burn scar on his index finger. “I don’t know why,” he admitted softly. “I’ve always had such… dark thoughts. Whenever I’m alone, my head just fills itself with endless nothingness. I can’t sleep for the fear of monsters in the dark, though I know they aren’t real. I worry all the time that Bronx’s nightmares, though not often, are a sign he’ll have the same problem being happy that I do.” He looked up, meeting Patrick’s eyes. “I want him to always be happy. I would give my life to make sure he never feels the things I feel,” he whispered. He sighed. “I used to drink. A lot. Before I married my late-wife I would drink and fall for a new boy right after I got through drinking away the last failed attempt at love in the wrong places. I spent most of my younger years drinking and sad or sneaking around with a stable boy in the hay loft and happy, only to be sad again when he didn’t like me anymore.”

Patrick squeezed Pete’s hand. “I wish you didn’t feel that way,” he said softly, careful not to wake Bronx. “You really are such a happy, joyful man when others are around. I hate knowing you feel so dark whenever you are alone.”

Pete shrugged simply. “Not much can be done, can it?” he said and Patrick bit his lip, curling his fingers to lace through Pete’s.

“I can offer you company,” he said gently. He smiled when Pete glanced up. “I am sorry I’m not a boy who loves you back like you wished of in your youth, but I can be a friend who is here,” he said, and Pete smiled gently, slightly hopeful. Patrick smiled back. “I do care about you. You have proven to be a lovely friend, even if the situation is a bit awkward still.” He nodded at the bed. “And you aren’t alone at night, Peter,” he said pointedly, giving Pete a stern look. “I know it is very strange that we’re sharing a bed and not _really_ married, but you are never alone in here. This room may be big, but it’s never empty in the dark as long as I’m here. If you are afraid, don’t go running off to distract yourself.” He shrugged with a shy smile. “I’m here to protect you from the monsters.”

Pete just started at him with wide eyes. “You… you really mean it?” he asked and Patrick chuckled.

“Yes, you stupid man,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I may be a terrible husband, but I think of you as a friend, and I am a friend who is willing to give up a little sleep if you just need to talk in the middle of the night.” He nodded at Bronx. “I had no problem getting up to entertain him until he fell asleep again, I have no problems treating you the same.”

Pete smirked. “Will you sing for me and show me toys?” he teased Patrick rolled his eyes, pulling his hands free.

“You’re insufferable, Wentz, honestly insufferable,” he said and Pete laughed as he slid out of bed, very conscious of how he was dressed in his sleep clothes.

“Oh come on,” he said, smiling at Patrick as he pulled on his dressing gown. “Really, though,” he said with a grateful smile. “Thank you for being my friend,” he said earnestly.

Patrick just smiled, rolling his eyes. “Well it’s hard to not like you when you’re so much like your son, and I find myself somewhat fond of him. He is quite sweet.”

Pete shrugged. “Well, it hasn’t really occurred to me before, but you are his stepfather,” he said, making Patrick stop for a moment, frozen.

Patrick smiled softly. “Well now… I guess I am,” he said and Pete gave him a teasing look.

“So you are actually allowed to be kind of be fond of him,” he said and Patrick laughed.

“Well, that’s good, because I am pretty fond of your offspring,” he joked, casting a glance over at Bronx, who was _still_ nice and asleep, before heading into the washroom.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later, when Pete noticed the hummingbird flitting around the house on its own, wing mended and left to her own devices, that he came up with a plan. Patrick was just offering to trade his bread for Bronx’s peas- the little boy hated peas and neither Pete or Patrick had the heart to force him to eat them as long as he ate the carrots- when Pete called his name.

“Yes?” he asked, looking up at Pete, who was sitting across from him, Bronx on the right side between them.

Pete smiled. “It’s been nearly three months since you were in Town. I wondered if possibly you would like to travel to London tomorrow and possibly check in on your shop,” he said and Patrick gave him a surprised smile.

“That would be nice. I do believe Brendon’s last letter said something about painting the shop. I’d love to see how it’s looking,” he said, and Pete smiled, looking somewhat relieved Patrick liked his idea.

“Bronx, would you like to come with us?” he asked, and Patrick gave him a smile before turning to the child.

“Yes, you can see some of the things I used to build,” he offered and Bronx’s smile grew larger.

“More birds like Laura?” he asked, and Patrick snickered at the name Bronx had bestowed upon the hummingbird that seemed to prefer Bronx to even Patrick.

“Yes, more birds, and some kittens and puppies too, if Brendon hasn’t sold out and forgot how to build more,” he offered and Bronx’s eyes widened.

“You can make puppies just like Laura?!” he asked, amazed.

Patrick chuckled. “Yes, of course, I can make a good few small animals like Laura. In fact, I’m good mind to get some supplies and continue building things here,” he said, then glanced up. “As long as that’s alright,” he said to Pete, who gave him a gentle smile that Patrick had noticed a lot lately.

“Of course. We could find you somewhere for a workshop, I’m sure,” he answered. “I can have whatever you would like brought to the house,” he assured and Patrick smiled gratefully.

“Thank you, Pete. I would enjoy that,” he said, turning back to Bronx, who was really interested in hearing about mechanical animals.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Since this time they weren’t traveling with tons of luggage like they had been after they married, it was faster to take a carriage to the train station a few villages away and then take the train into Town. Bronx was excited, since he had only traveled to London once before. He climbed into Pete’s lap and stared out the window as they passed fields. He also covered his eyes when they went across a bridge high above the river below. Much to Patrick’s amusement, Pete closed his eyes as well, mumbling under his breath until Patrick assured him they were across.

“You really don’t like heights,” Patrick had teased, but Pete just glared and pouted, refusing to play along.

When they got to the city, the hustle and bustle, the noises, even the smoke and stench and dirtiness that Pete and Bronx weren’t used to, it all felt like _home_ to Patrick. He couldn’t hide the part of him that was absolutely excited as they entered his old neighborhood. They passed not far from the street that led to his family’s house on their way to his shop. They were going to stay the night at a hotel, but they hadn’t brought luggage to drop off since Pete was intent on shopping for new clothes anyways, so they went straight to Patrick’s shop first.

When Patrick saw the sight reading _Stump’s Specialty Shoppe_ his heart leapt and he was overwhelmed with the realization he hadn’t seen his shop in _three months_. He leaned forward and shouted to the driver, too eager to wait much longer. “Stop here!” he cried, beaming as he opened the door himself as soon as they stopped and leapt from the carriage.

“Patrick!?” Pete called in alarm, but Patrick just turned back from the side of the street, beaming.

“Come on!” he cried, pointing down at the sign. He saw Pete realize what Patrick was on about and waited no longer before rushing down the street, dodging pedestrians. 

When Patrick got to the front window, he wasn’t at all surprised to see sparkly pocket watches and canisters for steam-torches lining the window. When he opened the door, the old simple bell had been replaced by a contraption that played a small whistle tune, making Patrick beam. Leave it to Brendon to invent something new. He walked through the door and felt his chest grow tight as he saw a group of boys huddled behind the counter, three of them, all examining a trinket. One of them seemed to be warding another off from hitting the trinket with the hammer in his hand.

Patrick was still watching when the door opened from the back of the shop and Brendon walked out, followed by Captain Smith. “Brendon!” Patrick said, and Brendon looked up sharply, eyes flying wide.

“PATRICK!” he cried, rushing around the counter to fly into Patrick’s arms, nearly taking them both down as he hugged him. “Oh Patrick, Patrick you’re here!” he cried, pulling back with a smile so huge Patrick’s own cheeks hurt in sympathy. “Oh I worried you’d never come back,” he cried, eyes glistening as he looked at Patrick, then hugged him close again in one of Brendon’s patented full-body hugs. Patrick had never known a more tactile person than Brendon, not in his life.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Patrick said, closing his eyes for a moment. He had almost missed how terribly he had wanted to see his shop and his friend again. When they pulled apart he sighed happily, smiling as he looked around. 

The walls were a lighter shade of blue than before. Everything was organized differently, but he could still see familiar items all over the shelves. “It feels so nice to be here again,” he said softly, then turned to smile at Brendon, who was still standing there, gazing at him like was running away any second. Patrick glanced past him and smirked when he spotted Spencer. “Why Captain Smith,” he said and Spencer smiled at him. “Imagine my surprise to see you on the one day I come back for a visit,” he said and Spencer shrugged.

“I come by as often as I can to make sure Brendon hasn’t burned the place down,” he teased and one of the boys behind the counter sneered.

“Is _that_ what you’re doing back there, fireproofing the back room, huh,” he said with a look far too filthy for a boy his age.

Patrick clucked his tongue. “Well now,” he said, and Brendon flushed.

“Alex, you hold your tongue!” he said, then turned to Patrick, who was smirking at him and Spencer. Brendon huffed. “How dare you!” he said, crossing his arms.

Spencer blushed, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. “I would never put an innocent boy in a situation to have his reputation tarnished. The door has a glass window!” he defended, and then glared at the boys. “You three are trouble, that is all. Plain and simple!” he accused.

Patrick snickered, shooting Brendon a look. “We should have a talk,” he said, only to be interrupted by the whistle. He turned back and smiled as he saw Pete walking in with Bronx holding his hand.

“Thank you for running off,” Pete said, rolling his eyes at Patrick, who smiled.

“Oh you can cross a street alone, I do think,” he teased and Pete glared.

“Yes, but Bronx kept trying to run off while I paid the driver. If he’d gotten hit by a carriage, I would definitely blame you,” he said, but Patrick could tell he wasn’t really cross.

Bronx broke free from his father and gasped as a bird- much larger than his Laura- flew right past him. “Patrick, look!” he cried, rushing over to Patrick, who beamed, scooping the boy up so he could see the things higher up the shelves as he held him on his hip.

Patrick turned to Brendon and Spencer, who were staring at Patrick in surprise, though they contained themselves with polite smiles. “Brendon, Spencer, this is Bronx,” he said, ruffling the boy’s curls. “This is Pete,” he said as Pete stepped up beside him, placing a hand on his arm lightly. “Pete, this is Captain Smith, I think I’ve mentioned his airship,” he said and Pete nodded. “And this is Brendon,” he said, smiling at Brendon.

Pete smiled. “Lord Pete Wentz,” he offered, holding out his hand to Brendon, and then to Spencer. “Patrick has told me a lot about you two,” he said politely.

Spencer smiled politely and nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Lord Wentz,” he said and Pete waved a hand.

“Call me Pete, really, everyone does,” he said, and Patrick smiled gently.

“He means everyone,” he said to Brendon. “His gardener even calls him Pete,” he said and Pete shrugged with a friendly look.

Brendon looked at Pete, then at Patrick meaningfully. “You must have a very friendly staff, Pete,” he said, and Patrick bit his lip when he saw the look in Brendon’s eye. Brendon turned his attention to Bronx. “And this little thing! Bronx, did you say?” he asked, and Pete nodded, smiling over at the amazed look on Bronx’s face.

Patrick shook Bronx some to get his attention. “Bronx, if you ask really nice, Mr. Brendon might show you some animals,” he said, winking at Brendon. “And you can tell him all about how you named the hummingbird with the painted wings,” he said and Brendon grinned brightly.

“How would you like to see a mechanical lizard?” he asked, and Bronx’s little eyes grew so wide it was amazing they didn’t get stuck.

“A LIZARD?!” he cried, and Patrick sat him down, letting Brendon lead him through the shop to the corner with a sign reading ‘Mechanical Menagerie’ hanging over it.

When they were gone, Patrick turned back, smiling at Spencer. “So, your lady still running fine?” he asked, and Spencer sighed.

“Brendon can manage, but he just can’t make her work as well as you,” he said with a mock sorrowful gaze.

Patrick chuckled. “Well, if you’re docked for long, maybe before nightfall I can find a little while to come take a look,” he said and Spencer smiled a bit brighter. “So… about Brendon,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Do not believe the insinuations of those heathens,” he said, glaring at the three boys.

Patrick chuckled. “Let me guess, Brendon’s shop hands?” he asked and Spencer glowered out of the corner of his eyes.

“Evil hell spawn is what they are,” he muttered. “Every one of them is no more than thirteen and yet every one of them is as brash and loud as a sailor!” he said incredulously. “Brendon lets them all share the spare room in his apartment since they were on the street when he met them and he couldn’t bear to leave them out there, but honestly, I’d really like to strangle them most days,” he admitted. “Or hire them on my airship, I do think they have enough energy the steam engine wouldn’t be necessary,” he joked and Pete laughed loudly.

“Aww, they’re just boys,” he said, then looked at Patrick. “You never did mention that Captain Smith was Brendon’s suitor though, you gave no indication at all,” he said and Spencer flushed bright pink, making Patrick smirk.

“I had no idea he was,” he said and Spencer scoffed.

“I am no such thing. It would be far from proper, seeing as we’ve been alone far too many times without a chaperone. I’d never-“

Patrick snorted. “Spencer, he’s a nineteen year old boy living on his own, there is nothing proper left to his name, whether or not he never did anything to deserve it. I have seen you look at him with fondness in your eyes, I really doubt propriety matters that much to an airship captain and a disowned shop keeper,” he said with a soft smile.

Spencer flushed. “It is most forward of you to suggest such things, Patrick. Whether or not I have affections for Brendon has nothing to do with my visiting him-“

Pete grinned. “Aww, Patrick, they’re clueless,” he teased and Patrick shot Pete a look.

“Hey, I can tease them, they don’t know you, it’ll make them uncomfortable,” he said and Pete rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever you say _Lord_ Patrick Wentz,” he said flatly before walking off to join Brendon and Bronx.

Patrick narrowed his eyes at his back before turning back to Spencer, who was still pink. “Really though,” he said so that only Spencer could hear him. “If you’re entirely blind, you may not have noticed, but Brendon has been blushing every time you smile since he had barely started here and you weren’t even aware of his name,” he suggested and Spencer ducked his head.

“I’ll… think about it,” he said softly, though Patrick could see a sparkle in his eyes that made his heart warm.

“Patrick!” Patrick turned, smiling when Bronx ran up to him, holding up his arms. Patrick picked him up and Bronx looked back at Brendon, who looked _smitten_ with the little boy. “Patrick, Brendon says he’s got a new puppy- a real one- and I wanna see it, can I?” he asked, and Patrick felt his heart melt a little when Bronx treated him like a parent. He still wasn’t perfectly used to being his step-father, but the closer they got, the more he was starting to really love the boy.

“Did your father say it was okay?” he asked, and Pete smiled from beside Brendon, giving him a little nod. “Alright,” he said, kissing his hair. He smirked at Brendon suddenly, making Brendon’s smile drop off. “How about, you get Mr. Spencer here to take you upstairs and show you the puppy?” he asked, and Spencer looked relieved to get off the hook.

“Sure, your father can come too,” he said, and Pete gave Patrick a knowing smile, brushing his wrist when he passed.

“You are an evil man, Patrick Wentz,” he whispered, making Patrick laugh as he passed and went through the door to the back room with Spencer and Bronx.

Patrick smiled at Brendon. “Brendon! Let’s talk,” he said, leading him to a corner away from the boys behind the counter.

“Patrick, please-“

Patrick cut him off with a hug, pulling back to smile at him. “Brendon just listen,” he said softly. “I promise, this isn’t me teasing, I’m just trying to nudge you in the right direction,” he said, and Brendon gave him a dubious look. “Brendon, you don’t _have_ to do anything, I understand your reluctance and your age, but Spencer Smith is a fine man,” he said and Brendon sighed. “No, really,” he said softly. “He adores you,” he said and Brendon blushed, smiling slightly.

“I think he really likes me,” he agreed. He sighed. “Oh Patrick, he comes in at least once a week and he always stays for hours. He will sit and watch when I’m working, or distract me with stories about his ship’s crew when I’m tired, and he is the most polite man,” he said with a dreamy sigh. “The first week you were gone, he came every day and stayed most of the day because he was afraid I would be lonely, or worse, that someone would bother me and nobody would be there,” he said, grinning. “I do think he’s fond of me,” he said, but then his smile dimmed. “But… I’m nineteen,” he said and Patrick nodded sympathetically. “Even if I wanted to, I don’t have a guardian to consent to us courting, and- and even if I was that kind of boy- And I am NOT!” he stressed, making Patrick grin at his vehemence. “Spencer would never do anything improper. He’s a very honorable man.”

Patrick gave him a look. “Tell me, Brendon. And be honest,” he said, eyeing him appraisingly, watching for his reaction. “Have you _really_ thought about it?”

Brendon frowned. “Improper things? Heaven’s sake, no! Poor and disowned or not, I am a decent man!” he said, looking indignant.

Patrick laughed, rolling his eyes. “No, I meant the ‘it’ that would include courting and marriage,” he said, shaking his head at Brendon’s thoughts. “If you were able, if someone were to be your guardian, to ensure you remained proper, would you want to marry him? I understand he’s a very handsome man and he is well established in the community, but other than friendship and a pretty face, do you like him in that way?” he asked, and Brendon ducked his eyes.

“I think so,” he said weakly. He sighed. “Oh Patrick, is it crazy to think that in the past few months that-“ He flushed, ducking his eyes. “That I might love him?”

Patrick smiled at him proudly. “Your heart has no limits or boundaries, Brendon.”

Brendon sighed “But what if he just likes me because I’m pretty? He said it! He told me once I was beautiful. And he is a gentleman, so I don’t think he would, but what if he only likes me for my face? I don’t want to make stupid choices.” He groaned. “Why did this happen when I’m so young? I can’t even _make_ my own choices!” He shot Patrick a look. “Oh and you!” he said, smirking. “Your husband is not at all old and ugly, he’s quite young and attractive,” he said and Patrick chuckled.

“I never said he was old and ugly. He is older, he’s thirty-five, but it’s not so much older,” he said and Brendon bit his lip, giggling though his cheeks showed pink.

“So, what’s it like being married,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Patrick glared. “Brendon Urie, you are so far from proper, you are the most improper boy in the world,” he said and Brendon laughed.

“Oh don’t blame me, those filthy minded street urchins have poisoned my innocent little brain,” he defended.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “It isn’t like that,” he said, and Brendon shot him a look.

“Whatever, you are very fond of your little family,” he accused and Patrick sighed.

“I like them very much,” he admitted. “But Pete and I aren’t… like that,” he said, shrugging. “We’re not really husbands as much as friends.”

Brendon snorted. “So you not only got forced to be married but don’t even get ‘marital benefits’-“  
“Those boys have RUINED the sweet little boy I left!” Patrick said with a shocked laugh. “And no! God, I told him he wasn’t to touch me, because I had no choice in marriage!” He shrugged. “At the time I assumed him to be the average horrible member of the nobility, but when we got to know each other and become friends, _that_ wasn’t really something for us.” He smiled. “He is a very wonderful man,” he said earnestly. “Really, Brendon, he’s so kind to everyone. I’ve yet to see a person of his staff that doesn’t call him by his nickname and act every bit of his friend as I do,” he said.

Brendon smiled. “His son is beautiful,” he said and Patrick beamed.

“I really love that boy,” he said earnestly. “I know it isn’t the most normal, but Pete is a father unlike any I have ever seen, not any mothers I have seen have been as loving as he is!” He beamed. “Do you know he spends hours of the day with Bronx? He takes all his free time spending it with his son and his dog. He lets him call him ‘daddy’ and they run around playing together.”

Brendon smiled. “I saw you carrying him on your hip. I’ve never seen a _mother_ that affectionate with her child, yet you two treat that little boy like he’s a prince,” he said with a happy smile. “I love seeing the way your husband indulges his child. Father’s don’t love children like that. They just don’t.”

Patrick smiled fondly. “To Peter, that boy is the very center of the universe. To be quite honest, I’ve always believed the smiles of a child is the most holy thing in the world, and our home is full of Glory if that is the case. He is such a smart and lovely child.”

Brendon gave him a look. “You are happier,” he claimed and Patrick smiled sadly.

“I miss my shop and I miss you and Spencer, I miss my parents… but I am happy,” he said softly. “Pete may not exactly be my love, but he’s a very wonderful friend. We get along so well. And we have a… a really strong family dynamic with Bronx, even in such a short time. It’s a bit lonely when Pete’s away and Bronx is taking his lessons, and I’ve made friends with the staff to ease the loneliness, but other than the distance from here, I really can’t fret too much.”

Brendon sighed. “I wish you had found this happiness with someone you cared for,” he said and Patrick hummed, looking at the shelf next to him.

“I’m not sure I do,” he said honestly. He shrugged. “I’ve never been one with a mind for love. And I am very fond of my husband. Even if it isn’t love, we are friends in a way I’ve never had one. We often spend hours together, just taking walks and talking. He’s smart and kind. He has ideas of how a man of his stature should be that don’t match what they generally are and I think he is actually very similar to my own ideas of how a man should be,” he admitted.

Brendon grinned. “I am happy for you, then,” he said, hugging Patrick. “You are the only person I’ve ever felt truly loved me, so your happiness means so much to me,” he admitted and Patrick closed his eyes, hugging him back.

“You are more like my brother than my real one, Brendon. Never doubt my affections for you,” he said, ruffling his hair when they parted.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pete was amazed to see that the small set of rooms above the shop were the way Brendon lived every day. He had known people who worked lived far less extravagant than himself, but he was used to families in small houses, not one boy- not even an adult- alone above a shop.

The main room had a table, a few chairs, and a stove in the corner with the pipe going out the window. There were half-burned candles all over the room, whereas his home was lit by a mixture of electricity generated by the steam-generator in the cellar and the gas lights outdoors. The only candles were the ones in rooms that weren’t primarily meant to need light at night- such as bedrooms.

Spencer came back from behind the stove with a puppy that made Bronx gasp. “His name is Howard,” Spencer said softly, making Bronx beam, petting the puppy’s little head gently.

Pete smiled in amusement. “So, Spencer, for someone _not_ his suitor, you spend a fair amount of time alone with Brendon,” he said and Spencer flushed, looking down at the puppy.

“I just… worry,” he admitted, looking up. “He’s here alone so often. Well,” He rolled his eyes. “He’s got those three boys around now, but they’re annoying children. He’s still often alone, as little as they respect him to not go out pestering people for pennies,” he said, glowering. He shrugged. “I didn’t worry so much when Patrick was still in town, but he gets lonely and I don’t like it.”

Pete grinned. “Patrick always said you were a noble man,” he teased.

“Daddy, was Hemmy this small?” he asked, and Pete smiled at the little puppy, reaching out to pet it’s head.

“Almost. This is a very small baby dog,” he said, scratching at its ears, smiling when it barked the tiniest ‘yip’.

There were footsteps behind them, coming up the stairs, and Pete turned, only to smile when Patrick walked in. “Look at Howard!” he said, gesturing to the puppy.

Patrick smirked as he walked over. “If you ask nicely, I’ll build you a mechanical puppy so it stays small,” he said and Pete blinked.

“You can make a puppy that’s half as responsive as a real one?” he asked and Spencer chuckled.

“Patrick can make anything,” he said and Patrick grinned.

“That’s very kind but I don’t know about _anything_ ,” he said, smiling at Bronx. “Would you like a mechanical puppy?” he asked and Bronx looked up with wide eyes.

“For me?” he asked and Patrick smiled softly, ruffling his hair.

“Well, you and your father, but yes,” he said and Bronx stood, hugging Patrick around his middle.

“Thank you! Thank you!” He gushed as he squished his face into Patrick’s middle. “I’d like that very much.”

Patrick smiled softly. “Good,” he said, stroking his cheek.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After seeing about Spencer’s airship while Pete and Bronx went shopping, Patrick returned to the hotel where Pete had said he would get them rooms, only to find that Bronx and Pete had already called for dinner to be sent up. When Patrick got upstairs, he was amused to find Pete wasn’t in their room, but across the hall in the room they had for Bronx. Pete had been uneasy about putting Bronx alone across the hall, but the lady downstairs reassured him that they had never had anything bad happen.

He knocked and Pete came out, shushing him. “Bronx is asleep.” Patrick smiled, glancing in just before Pete shut the door. “How did it go with Spencer?” he asked, and Patrick sighed.

“His airship had many problems that Brendon had mostly patched up without really fixing them. But, it’s in working order again,” he said, smiling his gratitude when Pete opened the door for him.

“I had some sandwiches brought up. Yours may be cold,” he apologized and Patrick shrugged, walking over to the table to pick up the sandwich, sitting down with a sigh. Pete smiled. “Do you want to see the things we bought?!” he asked excitedly, and Patrick chuckled round his sandwich bite.

“You love clothes way too much, Peter,” he teased, making Pete roll his eyes.

“There’s no such thing. Good tailors are hard to find, and one who can have several jackets and shirts and pairs of trousers done in just a few hours are very rare,” he said, going to unwrap the parcels on the bed.

Patrick finished his sandwich and walked over, smiling as Pete held up a jacket. “I like the color,” Patrick said, touching the velvet cuff. “This shade of blue makes your eyes look even darker,” he said and Pete grinned.

“It matches your eyes nearly,” he noticed, holding the sleeve up to Patrick’s face. “Though I don’t trust them,” he said with a narrow eyed glance, putting the jacket back up.

Patrick sat down, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t trust my eyes?” he asked, and Pete nodded with a mock-serious expression.

“They are tricky little buggers,” he said, kneeling in front of Patrick to look into his eyes. “They lie all the time about their color. Some days they’re as blue as the sky, some days they’re as green as the grass, and I swear one day they were nearly as brown as this floor,” he said with a narrow eyed look, as though he was glaring at Patrick’s eyes. “Tricky little things.”

Patrick snickered. “You are a very odd man, Pete Wentz,” he said, reaching out to pat his cheek teasingly. 

Pete sighed, standing with a stretch. “Yes, I have heard as much,” he said, making Patrick laugh.

Later when they were both getting ready for bed, Pete turned to Patrick, who was already sitting on the side of the bed and grinned. “I have an idea,” he said and Patrick shot him a look as he slid into the bed.

“That look is never good,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Pete grinned, laying on top of the covers beside Patrick, kicking his feet in the air behind him. “You know your friend the good airship Captain is adorably smitten with the sweet little shop keeper,” he said and Patrick snorted.

“Yes, tell me something less obvious why don’t you,” he said, and Pete bit his lip eagerly, making Patrick blink. “Yes?”

“Well, you’re sort of enough to be Brendon’s guardian, right?” he pointed out. “So, if, perhaps, they were to want to marry… you should be able to sign for him,” he said and Patrick shrugged.

“Possibly, but you look devious, what, want to trick them into marrying?” he asked and Pete smiled.

“Actually, I was going to say… if, by some chance, they possibly wanted to marry,” he started. “There’s this really nice little church in the village down the hill. I would love to throw them a big celebration at Lewiston Hall should they want to get married in the village.” Patrick smiled at him fondly and he ducked his head. “I just think they’re really sweet. And they definitely need someone to talk them into stopping being stupid,” he said pointedly.

Patrick snickered. “Well, Brendon ran away to avoid an unwanted marriage. I think he cares for Spencer very much, but he is very wary of making a mistake.” He shrugged. “He’s lonely though. He and Spencer would be very happy together if they would just stop being so afraid.”

Pete snorted. “They’re too honest,” he said and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Pete, not everybody went through a late-childhood or early-adulthood bout of falling in love and rolling in the hay with every boy they meet,” he teased and Pete scoffed.

“Propriety is for old people, not young lovers,” he said and Patrick shook his head.

“You are a cad, Pete Wentz, it’s amazing you aren’t a terrible husband,” he joked and Pete’s smile softened.

“I couldn’t be terrible to you if I wanted,” he admitted, eyes straying cross Patrick’s face. “You are my best friend in the world,” he said softly, making Patrick’s heart flutter. 

“As you are mine,” he said, catching Pete’s hand to twirl their fingers together. “However,” he teased. “I still was a proper boy unlike you, you improper little scoundrel,” he joked and Pete gave him a flat look.

“Hey, I was not married, I had no reason to refrain from experimentation,” he defended. “Could be worse, at least I was sneaking away into the night with boys I really liked,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows comically. “I was foolishly in love, not frequenting brothels all the time like a lot of boys of my social standard did when their parents thought they were away studying.”

Patrick hummed. “Boys of my class did that as well, I just had no interest,” he said, shrugging. He frowned. “Actually… come to think of it, I probably was the only boy who didn’t,” he said then chuckled. “Alright, maybe I’m just a prude and you are the normal one,” he said and Pete raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously? You never once had dalliances with the daughter or sons of some of your parents peers?” he asked and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Of course not, I was too busy hiding in my room building clocks and such,” he said and Pete smirked.

“Why Patrick Wentz!” he said brightly, leering at him. “You are a pure little dove, aren’t you?” he teased and Patrick groaned.

“Pete, don’t tease-“

“My husband the virgin,” he said, giggling as he fell onto his face, leaning his head against Patrick’s thigh. He frowned. “Hmm, probably not the best thing to let someone hear,” he realized, stroking his chin in playful contemplation.

Patrick sighed. “You are an ass,” he said, then smiled. “And yes, what a scandal that would be, Lord Wentz having an unconsummated marriage.”

Pete sighed. “I really am sorry,” he said and Patrick rolled his eyes, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“Pete, I’ve told you a thousand times, I had no mind for love, I had no intention of finding love. Marriage to you, though not _real_ is still probably the best marriage I could’ve ever hoped for,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of Pete’s head. “Now get in bed, it was a long day and I intend to not look sleep deprived before we go see my parents tomorrow,” he said and Pete grinned impishly.

“But if we both show up tired they’ll have no clue our marriage isn’t very much real,” he said, and Patrick groaned, covering his face as Pete slid into bed.

“That is horrible. I do not want my parents thinking I spent all night _not sleeping_ with my husband,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Pete just laughed. “Goodnight, Patrick,” he said, blowing out the candle next to the bed as Patrick did the same on his side.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Brunch with Patrick’s parents was awkward to say the least. They clearly didn’t approve of how Bronx was traveling with him without a governess, or of how they let him sit at the table between them as they ate, or the way Pete kept having his own little conversations with Bronx without them. Patrick, however, gave his mother a look almost daring her to speak out, because he still hadn’t forgiven her for the forged signature and forced marriage ordeal, even if it had worked out well.

However, after brunch, after saying goodbye to Patrick’s parents, they went back to Patrick’s shop to visit Spencer and Brendon. When they got there, they were surprised to see Brendon apparently attempting to stop Spencer from strangling a customer, if the angry extended arms were anything to go by. That or rip the young man’s head off, one or the other.

Patrick turned and blocked the sight from Bronx, giving Pete a look. “Just walk around outside for a moment, let me handle this,” he said and Pete gave the near-violent situation a worried look. Patrick sighed. “Peter, I’ve lived in London my whole life,” he pointed out and Pete grumbled.

“If you get hurt, I’ll kill every one of them,” he threatened, then took Bronx back out the door. 

Patrick stalked over. “Alright, what the hell is going on in my shop?” he asked and Brendon looked up from his spot with his hands on Spencer’s chest, trying to push him towards the back room to no avail.

“It’s really nothing, just-“

Spencer growled. “That bastard was trying to put his hands on Brendon!” he spat, giving the customer a dark enough look it was shocking the man hadn’t ran away.

“Oi!” he said, scoffing. “I was just offering him a tip, weren’t I?” he said, grinning. He nodded at Patrick. “Come on, mate, it was just jokin-“

“You had him backed up against the counter and he was saying ‘get away’ when I walked in!” Spencer snarled. “If you touched him, I swear to God-“

“SPENCER!” Brendon shouted, glaring. “Spencer Smith, you calm down,” he said, hands on his hips as he let Spencer go. “Thank you for trying to defend me,” he started, still glaring. “But trying to physically attack a customer who got fresh is NOT the way to go about it! You are a gentleman and gentlemen do not attack people for no reas-“

Spencer’s death-glare never left the stranger. “He was pinning you against the counter! God know what else he would’ve tried to do to you!” he said, growling a little even.

The guy smirked. “Look, yer friend might be pretty but he ain’t exactly a girl, mate. A bloke with his face on his own in this city?” He shook his head. “Let’s just say it ain’t likely he never probably took a little extra income on the side, innit?” 

Brendon clenched his jaw, clearly fighting to ignore the man’s implications. Spencer, however, turned _bright_ red, the veins in his neck bulging out. “I ought to take you out back and beat you, boy,” he spat and Patrick shook his head.

“Alright, you-“ He grabbed the man by the arm and ignored his squawking as he led him to the door. “Get out of my shop if you are going to accuse my shopkeeper of prostitution!” he said angrily. “And you,” he said, turning on Spencer. “I may not be around much anymore, and you may be a valuable customer, but I’ll be damned if you can try and start a fight in my shop!” he shouted angrily.

Spencer still looked livid. “He- that bastard tried to touch Brendon, he held him against his will against the counter, and THEN he had the nerve to insinuation Brendon would resort to _prostitution_ for extra money-“

“And do you really think he’s the first?” Brendon cried angrily, glaring up at Spencer. “Spencer Smith, you may think I’m sweet and you know I’m a proper boy, but what else could someone think?! I’m nineteen and working in a shop! I haven’t lived with my parents in over a year!” He scoffed angrily. “Why do you think prostitutes sell their bodies in the first place?! Because they don’t want to starve to death, that’s why! What else could someone expect of a boy who is all alone and- apparently- has a pretty face?!”

Spencer frowned. “But… but you work in a shop-“

“Yes, and I always have, nearly since I became homeless, but I got lucky,” he said, shaking his head. “Spencer, people think poorly of me. They do. It just is how it is,” he said simply. “You can’t get violent and outraged at one man calling me a whore-“

“I’d kill him-“ Spencer started darkly and Patrick cut him off.

“Spencer, he is a minor living on his own. People will assume that he got his money somewhere and for a pretty boy, he would make a lot in that disreputable profession,” he said simply. “I hate they think it about him, but he is used to it. People used to insinuate he was my kept-boy all the time when they came in,” he pointed out and Spencer just sighed, rubbing his face with his palms.

“I just- it makes me so _angry_ ,” he groaned. “Brendon is a lovely, respectable person! He barely curses and there is no reason to assume he’s selling himself for pocket money!” he said and Brendon smiled sadly.

“As long as you believe that, Spencer Smith, I don’t mind customers running their mouths,” he said, holding his hand out to take Spencer’s. “I know you and the boys would defend my honor if it came down to it, but I don’t have much honor, just my friends.”

Spencer sighed. “I don’t like it,” he said softly, looking into Brendon’s eyes. “It isn’t fair that just because you’re on your own people assume terrible things.” He caught Brendon’s hands, pulling them to his chest. “I wish I could make it stop.”

Brendon snorted. “Good luck with that, you’d practically have to-“

Spencer shocked them both by dropping to his knees, still clutching Brendon’s hands in his. “Brendon Urie, please allow me the honor of being your husband,” he said suddenly, making Brendon’s eyes fly open.

“W-what?! Spencer-“

Spencer shook his head, smiling at him eagerly. “I want it,” he said softly. “I- I enjoy every moment spent with you, even if you’re completely ignoring me, because you are an amazing person and I-“ He smiled weakly. “I love you.” 

Brendon just frowned. “So you want to marry me to save my honor, huh?” he grumbled and Spencer groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Clearly,” he said flatly. “Because loving you can’t possibly be an option, can it?” he asked sarcastically, and Brendon flushed, ducking his eyes.

“It… could be, but the other makes sense,” he said then bit his lip. “So… you- you love me?” he asked weakly.

Spencer laughed weakly. “So much, Brendon. God, if you could imagine the joy I feel whenever I dock the ship and know I have an excuse to come here. Even if it’s a stupid bolt I had to break off myself, I want nothing more than to spend time near you.”

Brendon ducked his eyes. “Oh… that’s… that changes things,” he all but whispered.

Spencer smiled hopefully. “I would be a good husband, I think,” he offered and Patrick slapped himself in the forehead at Spencer’s next words. “I mean… I know you could have such a better husband if you wanted, but I do hope you could possibly settle for me.”

Brendon chuckled softly. “You are one of the most modest, kind, and honorable men I’ve ever met, Spencer Smith,” he pointed out. “I would never have the luxury of ‘settling’ for someone that lovely.” He tugged Spencer’s hands, still clasped in his, up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You will make a find husband,” he whispered, and Spencer looked up with a hopeful smile.

“Is that a yes? Will you have me?” he asked breathlessly, and Brendon’s smile grew wide, almost so wide it was blinding.

“I will,” he said, making Spencer beam as he looked at Brendon with a wonder-filled look, almost as if he had just learned the best news ever.

Patrick snickered a bit, unable to help himself. “My goodness boys, at least wait until you’re actually _married_ to speak of _having_ one another,” he said, smirking.

Brendon and Spencer both gasped and spluttered, turning bright pink. “PATRICK WENTZ!” Brendon cried, glowering. “That is NOT at all what we meant-“ Spencer stood up and walked around the counter to hide his face, looking away in embarrassment. “And you, sir, are very improper!” he accused, though he giggled a bit, breaking his angry façade. 

Patrick snorted. “Well, I’ve been around my scandalously free-worded husband,” he defended, grinning. “He has jokes that could make sailors blush,” he said and Brendon groaned, covering his pink cheeks.

“My God,” Brendon said with a gentle laugh. “I actually just got engaged,” he said, meeting Spencer’s eyes with matching smiles. “What on earth are we actually going to do about that?” he asked, still too happy to bother worrying.

Spencer shrugged, walking closer to hold Brendon’s hand in his. “I have no idea,” he said with a bit of a hysterical laugh, beaming down at his new fiancé. “But we’ll work it out,” he said, sighing as he looked into Brendon’s bright, happy eyes.

The whistle of the door opening came and Patrick turned to see Pete and Bronx coming in. “Brendon! Brendon Daddy says he’s gonna get you to make Patrick a new watch!” Bronx said and Pete groaned, shaking his head.

“That was meant to be a surprise, Bronx,” he said, then smiled at Patrick, who rolled his eyes. “Well it was,” he said, stepping up beside him. “Because I haven’t bought you many gifts,” he said and Patrick chuckled.

“Guess what, Pete,” he said with a smirk at Brendon and Spencer, who both blushed. “Remember what you told me just last night, about the ‘party’ thing,” he said and Pete smiled widely as he turned to Spencer and Brendon.

Brendon blushed and rolled his eyes. “Were you gossiping, Patrick?” he accused and Patrick grinned.

“Well, maybe I’ve been around Pete too long,” he teased and Pete huffed, poking him in the arm. “But, just last night, Pete had something he thought of,” he said, and Pete smiled at the two young men.

“Well, you see, if he was so inclined, I’m pretty sure Patrick could sign as your guardian should you want to get married, Brendon,” he said, and Brendon perked up. “And there just so happens to be a beautiful little church in the village close to Lewiston Hall, as well as all intentions to host a lovely celebration at our home for you two,” he offered.

Brendon beamed. “Patrick, do you really think it would work? Do you think you could be accepted as my guardian?” he asked excitedly.

Patrick smiled. “I don’t see why not. You’re a minor and you’re on your own. Someone has to act in the capacity of guardian and you haven’t got your parents. I’ve been your employer for a while now,” he said, and Brendon beamed, rushing around the counter.

“Patrick!” he cried, hugging him. “Patrick, Patrick I’m going to get married!” he cried, laughing brightly. “Pete!” he said, turning to him, still hanging off of Patrick. “Would you really have a reception at your home?”

Pete smiled. “You’re Patrick’s friend, of course I would,” he said, and Patrick gave him a grateful look. 

Patrick just hugged Brendon when he clung to him again. “You deserve to be happy,” he said, and Brendon sighed.

“I really am happy.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A few days after Pete, Patrick, and Bronx had returned home to Lewiston Hall, and only one day after Pete had had a large storage room on the fourth floor cleared for Patrick to begin putting together his own workshop, Patrick had a lawyer from Town, as well as Spencer and Brendon, come up to Lewiston Hall to begin preparing a contract for their marriage.

The lawyer, it turned out, was a short, bespectacled man that was even smaller than _Patrick_. He arrived by carriage before Brendon and Spencer so Patrick left Pete to greet Brendon and Spencer while he saw the lawyer in Pete’s office.

“Now, Lord Wentz-“ The lawyer named McArthur started, and Patrick waved a hand, cringing.

“My husband is Lord Wentz, I’m simply a mister,” he corrected and the man eyed him curiously but didn’t bring it up again.

“Well, Mr. Wentz, this is a very unique situation indeed,” he started, fiddling with his glasses. “I understand you wish to negotiate a marriage contract between an… airship pilot and your young employee?” he asked and Patrick smiled.

“Yes, you see, Mr. Urie is underage, so he cannot marry without a guardian’s consent. However, he is alone. He has been my employee for quite some time now, and he hasn’t the faintest idea how to even find his parents to have them consent,” he lied. Brendon knew quite well where his parents were, he just knew he was disowned and they wouldn’t help him. “I would like to sign for him, as his guardian. I have been the one caring for him for the time he has been in my employment. He lives in a home I provide for him, and I provide him with the income that he lives by. I am as good as a guardian appointed to him and I want to consent for his marriage.”

Mr. McArthur eyed him and then shrugged. “Alright, I guess you are better equipped to sign for him than anyone else. However, are you sure you want to? Do you really want to be known as the guardian of a shop keeper?” he asked, and Patrick snorted.

“Sir, I promise, my husband and I are very aware of our social standing and we have no worries about this arrangement,” he assured. “I would like to have a document ready upon the arrival of the couple in question.”

Mr. McArthur smiled. “Alright, let’s get started then,” he said, settling in for the drafting of the document.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick was still meeting with the lawyer, so when Brendon and Spencer arrived, Pete was waiting to greet them along the front drive, throwing a stick with Hemingway. As their carriage came to a stop, he smiled and waved to the driver.

When the door opened and Spencer came out, offering his hand to Brendon, Pete smiled even larger. “Good afternoon, boys!” he said and Brendon beamed.

“Pete!” he cried, bouncing a bit as he walked to greet him. “Thank you so much for this,” he said with the most sincere expression Pete could imagine.

“It’s nothing, Brendon,” he said once again, reaching out to ruffle his hair teasingly. “Patrick adores you like a brother and I feel that is good enough to want to make you boys happy,” he said, then smirked. “Also, I even went and had some furniture bought for a few of the rooms so you and whatever guests come along and need somewhere to stay besides the inn in the village have places to sleep.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even do that for Patrick,” he disclosed.

Brendon rolled his eyes. “Your rich, you have THIS… monstrosity of a home, and yet you had no rooms for guests?”

Pete scrunched his nose. “An excuse for my brother and sister to not come visit,” he said simply. “Now come on, someone will get your luggage, let’s go find you two somewhere to stay!” he said, whistling for Hemmingway as they headed inside. 

Pete could hear the gasps as they walked in and he smiled, turning. “Yes, this is the front hall, oooh, ahhh it’s a big room,” he teased. “Patrick nearly tipped over looking at all the detail all around and the whole ‘open all the way up’ thing.”

“Be nice, Peter.” They all turned and saw Patrick coming from the hall to the left. “Really though,” he said as he faced Brendon and Spencer. “You should’ve seen my face when I found the grand hall,” he added. “I was alone exploring that day and I’m sure Pete would’ve teased me for ages when I walked around cooing over all the portraits of his ancestors,” he said, and Pete smiled in amusement.

“I had forgotten that even existed,” he said honestly. 

Patrick hummed. “You know, I had completely forgot, but what room is behind the double doors in the back sitting room, the ones opposite the exit to the veranda?” he asked curiously.

Brendon’s eyes got even wider. “It’s so big you haven’t even seen all the rooms?!” he asked Patrick, who chuckled.

“Well, I stopped bothering after a while, most of the rooms in this house are just empty parlors or bedrooms, but those double doors intrigued me for days before I gave up on trying to find a way in,” he said.

Pete blinked. “Oh, the doors to the ballroom are locked?” he asked, and Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Ballroom?” He sighed. “Of course, I knew something was missing here,” he said, shaking his head.

Pete smiled. “The double doors behind the main staircase are the other entrance. There’s a few service entrances along the sides as well, staircases and corridors down to the first floor,” he explained.

Patrick started. “It goes that far? From that wall-“ he gestured to the back of the front all. “All the way to nearly to the back of the house?” he asked. “We’ve never even held a ball and we married in prime social season, and yet we have a gigantic ballroom?” he asked, and Pete shrugged.

“As a newly married couple, I was able to get out of socializing. I wish I could escape it next season as well,” he pointed out. “I never knew you were so damn curious,” he teased, making Patrick snicker.

“I tried to pick the lock with a bread knife,” he admitted and Pete gave him an affectionate laugh.

“I have the keys somewhere in my office, we can go in later,” he promised. “Anyhow, we need to find a room for these two,” he said, eyeing them. “There’s a decent few rooms furnished now. Mostly on the eastern side of the third floor. I suppose we can walk along the hall glancing in and let you pick one.”

Brendon flushed. “Pete! We can’t sleep in the same room yet!” he chastised, crossing his arms. “That is VERY improper! I mean, it’s bad enough we’ve been alone several times at the shop and we took a closed carriage here alone, but we _are not_ sleeping in the same room.”

Pete smirked. “Worried about keeping your hands to yourself, huh,” he said with a devious look.

Spencer looked at him darkly and Patrick scoffed. “Pete, stop teasing them. And besides, not everyone their age has no control over their temptations like you did,” he said and Pete pouted.

“That was mean,” he said and Patrick rolled his eyes, shoving him lightly as he passed.

“Alright, you guys come on. If you are so worried about your reputations, we definitely have rooms far enough away you won’t be suspected of sneaking into each other’s bed at night,” Patrick said, leading the way upstairs, Pete following them from the rear.

Brendon and Spencer whispered to each other as they passed beautiful accents throughout the home. Patrick stopped halfway down the corridor and started opening doors. “Pick whichever rooms you like,” he offered, and Pete smiled.

“Eight rooms, how many guests are we inviting?” he asked, settling with his arm around Patrick’s waist as Brendon and Spencer glanced into the rooms.

Patrick shrugged. “Spencer has a family. He worked on the ship and owned the ship before he was an adult, but he does have a family. They just needed money and he’s their only son so he went to work when he was around fourteen or fifteen, I think.”

Pete smiled. “You are a very thoughtful person,” he said, leaning his head on Patrick’s shoulder.

Patrick adjusted so Pete didn’t have to slump so much obligingly. He leaned his head against Pete’s and fought a wave of warmth at the physical affection. Truth be told, since they had really spoke about themselves and become good friends, and especially since Pete had admitted his problems being alone, Patrick had been growing increasingly alright with Pete’s touches. Pete seemed to be more reassured that he wasn’t actually alone by being able to touch someone. Often, when Pete had bad dreams, Patrick would pull him into a hug and hum until he fell asleep again. He didn’t seem to bother containing his urge to hug Patrick or hold his hand as long as they weren’t in public. It was nothing much, after nearly four months together, for Patrick to wake up with Pete curled around him, almost like he was afraid Patrick would slip away if he didn’t hold him. 

It worried Patrick only in the sense that Pete’s behavior revealed his dark thoughts even without words. Patrick hated for Pete to be sad, so he didn’t argue against the affection if it was enough to help Pete at least a bit.

Brendon picked the room with purple walls, giggling at the colors. “I like this one! It’s very… pretty,” he said, coming out with a decisive smile. 

Spencer chuckled. “I went for practical, but you’re in luck, I’m only two doors down, other side of the hall,” he said, coming out of a small room. “I don’t need much space, some other guest may,” he said, shrugging.

Pete smirked against Patrick’s shoulder. “And you’re still close enough that, until someone gets a room between these two, you can sneak out and have sordid meetings before you are married,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, pouting when Patrick elbowed him. “Owww,” he whined.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Pete, for the last time, we intend to remain proper-“

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Ignore him, he was sneaking off into hay lofts and broom closets with boys left and right when he was your age, he just assumes all men that young can’t control their libidos,” he said and Pete smirked lecherously.

“No, I know some can, because my husband is as pure as the driven snow-“

“Peter, please,” Patrick sighed, rolling his eyes. “Let’s stop the teasing.”

Pete kissed his shoulder before straightening. “Never,” he whispered with a sweet smile. “You’re adorable when you get cross with me-“

“I’m going to punch you in a moment, Peter, I swear I will,” Patrick threatened with a chuckle.

Pete shrugged. “Besides,” he said, looking back at Brendon and Spencer. “My point is, I’m pretty sure nobody here currently in the household would blame you for spending time alone, seeing as you’ll be married very soon,” he said and Patrick snickered.

“You’re just a secret romantic, admit it,” he teased, sliding his hand down Pete’s arm as he turned away. “I’m finishing up with the lawyer, whenever you’re settled, Spencer, I need you,” he called out as he turned and left.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Spencer took a breath as he stood up, putting down the pen. “So… that’s it?” he asked, and Patrick smiled, nodding.

“In two weeks’ time, you will be marrying Brendon,” he said and Spencer beamed. Patrick sat on the desk and looked at him with a soft smile. “Spencer Smith, you better be prepared to care for him. He is like my brother and I’d hate to have to hurt you for not being every bit the man I want for him.”

Spencer just ducked his eyes shyly. “I love him. I want nothing more than to bring him nothing but joy all the time. I cannot wait to spend my life with him. Do not worry about me treating him better than most anyone else possibly could.” He bit his lip. “Patrick… I know Pete would have the resources. And I hate to ask so much of you, but… I want to find Brendon’s siblings,” he said and Patrick blinked.

“What?” he asked and Spencer shrugged.

“He mentioned how much he wished his brothers and sisters could see him getting married, and how much getting married made him miss them. I want to find them and send them invitations at the very least,” he said softly.

Patrick smiled warmly. “You are such a good man,” he said earnestly, shaking his head. “Yes, of course. I think I remember their names. Their maiden names at least, but I’m sure Pete can find someone who would be able to deliver invitations to them.”

Spencer grinned. “Thank you, Patrick. Thank you.” He shook his head. “Even just one of them showing up would mean the world to him. I convinced him to invite his parents, even if they won’t come, but to know one brother or sister was willing to support him… it would make his wedding day the most wonderful it ever could be. And I want him to have everything in the world I can give him.”

Patrick nodded. “Yes, I do think you two will be very happy together.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
One week before the wedding, Pete and Patrick were on a walk, just admiring the last vestiges of warmth before the weather grew too cold to walk the grounds in comfort. They had noted the clouds in the distance but disregarded the warning. However, as they got out on the small island just across a beautiful stone columned and covered bridge and walked around to the far side of it, sitting near the water’s edge, they discovered the clouds were ominously darker above them.

Pete sighed. “Smells like a rain is coming,” he said and Patrick chuckled.

“We have a bit of time still. We should make it back to the house before too long, but for now we’re alright,” he said, then smiled, nudging his shoulder against Pete’s as they both faced the water. “Brendon and Spencer are both so eager to be wed,” he said and Pete chuckled.

“If the longing glances are anything to go by, all of this waiting when they’re so close to being married is killing them. Brendon clearly wants so badly to be someone’s husband, it’s driving him to distraction,” he surmised, shaking his head.

Patrick snickered. “For all the joking, I do believe he is finding his own difficulty with remaining as proper as they can still be the closer they are to getting married,” he said and Pete raised an eyebrow before narrowing his eyes.

“What do you know?” he demanded perceptively. “You have a look on your face I recognize as knowing a secret. Tell!” 

Patrick shook his head, glancing at the water once more. “Brendon admitted they were taking a walk the first night here and when it was time to part and go to their separate rooms, they held each other for a few moments- nothing more- but they’ve yet to really allow themselves more than hand-holding with decent proximity, which is a feat in and of itself for, if you haven’t noticed, Brendon sort of hugs a lot,” he pointed out and Pete nodded.

“I did notice, it is amusing,” he said, then smirked. “But that isn’t all,” he accused and Patrick grinned.

“No, it’s not. It turns out, the second night, they shared their first kiss as they parted,” he said and Pete whistled playfully.

“Kissing out of wedlock, how dare they,” he teased. “What, did it elevate?” he asked, looking at the expression Patrick’s face held, as if he knew the best secret ever.

“Not much, nothing but kissing, but I walked past the end of the corridor last night and their ‘goodnight kiss’ in between their rooms was…” He grinned impishly. “Heated, for lack of better words. It was far from a chaste peck, I’ll give you that much,” he said with a bark of laughter. “They were in a full on embrace, sharing feverish kisses. I do believe, being young, in love, and so close all the time is taking its toll on them.”

Pete sighed. “I remember being young and in love,” he said, then tilted his head. “Well, young and believing I was in love anyways.”

Patrick hummed curiously. “I was never young and in love,” he commented with a slightly whimsical smile. “What’s it like?” he asked, and Pete looked over at Patrick.

As Pete glanced at Patrick’s profile, from his golden hair, to his long, beautiful eyelashes, to his plump, soft looking lips, he felt his chest tighten unusually. “Nothing nearly as nice as contentment,” he said softly, lost in his gazing. “I have so much more joy in my life at this age, with a person who cares for me as his companion, than I ever did in love,” he said and Patrick turned to offer him a contended smile.

“Yes, but I know that feeling,” he said, nudging him with his shoulder again. “Tell me, Pete, what is it like to be young and in love?” he asked.

Pete shrugged. “You see a person with more than lust, a stronger feeling of yearning, but with the same heat and drive to touch them. However, the passion you share whenever you’re together is more than lust, it’s more than passing fancy.” He smiled distantly, thinking of his past. “It’s… a matter of great affection, intense feelings, and dramatic lust, but it passes eventually,” he said, shaking his head. “If it was true love, the way I believe it is for Spencer and Brendon, it would settle into a long, slow warmth that can be shared for a very long time, the type of affection and tender feelings that don’t need that initial carnal lust for each other physically as much as a need emotionally as companions.” He smiled. “Or so I assume. It was never true love. It was passing love that I grew out of every time.”

Patrick gave him a small, intense frown of confusion before glancing away. “Oh,” he said. Just as Pete leaned forward to inquire as to what was troubling him, they were both startled as a loud roll of thunder crashed above them seconds before the clouds had reached their capacity and released their bounty of cool raindrops upon them in a shocking downpour. “Ah!” Patrick cried in shock, and Pete laughed.

“Come on.” He scrambled up, tugging Patrick up with him. “I’ll race you to the bridge!” he cried and Patrick laughed, rushing after him.

“Pete Wentz, if I fall into the lake running after you in the pouring rain, I will haunt you when I drown!” he vowed, though they both soon fell to laughter as they took turns passing each other for the lead.

As they rushed through the forest, ducking branches and hopping over roots and logs, the rain continued to pour down. A loud crack close by started them both into screams, Pete stopping short and catching Patrick, dragging him back just as the dead tree in front of them fell across the path, having been finally tipped over by the sudden weight of the heavy rain. Patrick looked horrified as he realized it would’ve fallen on him. Suddenly, the storm was frightening. Pete shook Patrick, urging him on. “Let’s go!” he cried, leading the way at a run, Patrick’s hand tightly within his grasp. As they came out at the bridge, they both darted under the shelter of the stone bridge, stopping to catch their breath out of the rain. They shared looks, only to burst out laughing at their predicament.

“My God, we were stupid for coming out with such threatening clouds on the horizon,” Pete declared and Patrick laughed, leaning against the stone column, next to the railing.

“Oh that tree gave me such a fright,” he said, clasping a hand over his chest, sighing as he caught his breath. “Goodness that would’ve been horrible,” he said, smiling over at Pete. “Thank you for saving me,” he said and Pete rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, because it was such a hardship to stop my beautiful husband from being smashed by a tree,” he said sarcastically, leaning against the rail next to Patrick.

Patrick’s smile softened and he ducked his eyes, biting his lip. “Why Lord Wentz, did you just call me beautiful?” he asked coyly, making Pete blink as his heart pounded in his chest.

Patrick was glancing up from beneath his wet eyelashes, eyes sparkling a bright green in contrast to his rain-darkened hair. His cheeks showed a flush from either the exertion of the run or the compliment, possibly a combination of both. And as Pete stared at him, he realized something he had always known, but had just really understood.

Patrick was _beautiful_. 

Pete had thought his husband attractive from the time they met, but standing there, wet in the rain and damn near flirting with him, Patrick was one of the most intriguingly beautiful men Pete could remember laying eyes on. And on top of it all, on top of the realization that he was without a doubt the prettiest man he knew, Pete realized something else special that had been brewing for ages, something that had been growing stronger every day, something that had filled him so discreetly that Pete hadn’t noticed what was going on until this very moment, when the mystery warmth and tightness he had experienced around Patrick finally gave itself a name.

He was in love with him.

At this realization, this moment of revelatory excitement when adrenaline and _happiness_ flooded his veins, Pete could not be held accountable for his actions as he stepped closer to Patrick, gazing hungrily into his eyes, barely aware of anything outside the pounding of his pulse throughout his body. Patrick stood frozen in surprise at the look on Pete’s face. “Pete?” he all but whispered, only to gasp as Pete leaned in and kissed him. 

Pete feared the moment after he did it that Patrick would hate him, that Patrick would hit him, or worse, that Patrick would be afraid of him. He drew back quickly, hands still clutching Patrick’s shirt. “I’m-“ But Patrick cut his apology off immediately.

What he hadn’t counted on was for Patrick to follow his lips, kissing him back. Pete was almost so distracted that he froze, but the touch of soft, warm lips to his own after so long was too much to not evoke a response. Pete close his eyes, returning Patrick’s kiss. It was a fairly chaste kiss, just a warm, slow slide of lips, but even still, when they pulled apart, it left them both breathless.

Patrick opened his eyes first, so the moment Pete looked up, he was met by bright, shocked eyes inches from his own. “Pete?” Patrick whispered, and Pete smiled weakly.

“Patrick,” he whispered back, and Patrick pulled a bit further back to look at Pete, searching his face. Pete had no idea what he was looking for, but he must’ve found it, for he smiled- a beautiful, joyful smile Pete would likely never forget- and slid his hands from Pete’s upper arms to his shoulders, pulling him in again. 

Pete sighed as Patrick kissed him once more, luxuriating in the velvety soft touch of Patrick’s lips. When Patrick’s hands came up to cup his face, thumps stroking across his cheekbones, Pete couldn’t help but give a soft moan of contentment, sliding his own hands from their violent grip in Patrick’s shirt to smooth along the sloping curve of Patrick’s sides, settling on his waist as they shared a series of slow, happy kisses. “You are beautiful,” Pete mumbled against his lips, making Patrick smile into the kiss.

“You are,” Patrick said, sliding his hands from Pete’s face to the back of his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss. Pete slid his arms around Patrick, pulling them closer as he chanced flickering his tongue against the curve of Patrick’s lip, only to be rewarded with a low moan from Patrick that caused a his stomach to flip. Patrick curled his arms around Pete’s neck, sighing as he lapped into Pete’s mouth. Pete pushed Patrick back against the column, pressing his body fully against Patrick, eliciting a gasp, only to be rewarded with more passionate kisses.

They were startled apart, however by a sharp crack of thunder as lightning struck quite near them. As they both looked around frantically, clearly frightened, Pete couldn’t help a laugh at the absurdity of the situations. Patrick looked at him, and then smiled brightly, giggling as well. “Perhaps we should rethink our current situation,” he suggested and Pete beamed.

“Yes, while I do enjoy kissing you, I’d really like us to not die by lightning strike,” he said and Patrick grinned.

“Race you inside!” he cried, darting past Pete before he could even react. Pete just gaped, then turned to run after him.

“You cheated!” he shouted, laughing as he raced after his husband towards the house.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick let out a triumphant laugh as he stumbled over the edge of the rug, turning back at the doors that Pete was just falling through, slamming them behind him against the rain. “I won!” he boasted and Pete growled playfully, rushing forward to grab him around the middle.

“You are a dirty, dirty cheater, Patrick Wentz,” he accused, peppering kisses along his cheek and jaw, making Patrick squeak, laughing as he tried to get away, Pete’s flurry of pecks tickling him. 

“Pete!”

Pete nipped at his chin playfully. “You don’t deserve any kisses, cheaters don’t get kisses,” he said and Patrick positively giggled as he clung to Pete, who had him dipped over backwards.

“You like my kisses too much to deny me,” he teased, smirking up at him. Pete grumbled and stole a kiss.

However, as they heard footsteps, they jumped apart, blushing like guilty children, only to fight laughter as they looked at each other’s bedraggled state. The door to the back corridor opened and Dallon came in, then rolled his eyes.

“There you are! We were getting worried about the storm when nobody could find you two and Brendon said you’d gone on a walk,” he said, then gestured behind him. “Come on, Bronx was scared by the storm and he won’t stop pouting for anybody but you,” he said and Patrick immediately sobered.

“Oh dear, is he okay?” he asked, following Pete and Dallon immediately out of the room.

“He’s always been afraid of big storms. I don’t think there’s been one quite like this since you’ve been around,” Pete disclosed, catching Patrick’s hand thoughtlessly. “Poor thing.”

Dallon just waved a hand. “I’ll go pry him away from clinging to Brendon and getting him to sing over the thunder while you two get into some dry clothes. I’ll bring him up in a bit,” he said, walking away at a faster pace.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick came out of the closet, only to pause as he saw Pete hanging his clothes across a chair near the fire, only wearing dry trousers without a shirt. Patrick bit his lip, stopping at the foot of the bed to look at Pete’s muscles moving beneath his skin as he worked, the dips of his skin highlighted by the firelight. He felt a warmth in his stomach and gnawed harder on his lip to quell a wave of arousal at the sight of Pete’s naked upper body.

When Pete turned back and saw him looking, Patrick flushed, releasing his bottom lip with a pop. “Um-“

Pete snorted, going to grab his clean shirt off the chaise. “No, by all means look at me like you’re going to devour me in one bite,” he teased and Patrick groaned, falling onto the bed with a huff, rolling onto his belly to press his face into the bedding.

“I really hate you sometimes,” Patrick groused. 

Pete laughed softly and walked over, falling backwards onto the bed beside him. “You do not,” he teased, sitting up on his elbows to look at Patrick, who was still pressing his face into the sheets at his side. “Really though, you are free to look all you want-“

“Oh stooooop,” Patrick whined, picking up his head to pout at him dramatically. “Peter, you were walking around without a shirt. I’ve actually never seen you without a shirt, so yes, I tend to get a bit distracted,” he defended and Pete smiled, leaning over to peck his lips, shutting him up. “And that!” he cried, proving that Pete’s silencing technique didn’t work. “You can’t kiss a man the way you did and then walk around _shirtless_! It’s the worst tease-“

Pete smirked knowingly. “My, my, my, a few kisses and suddenly you can barely keep your wits about you,” he teased. “Damn I’m better than I figured!”

Patrick shot him a flat look. “You are so amusing, really,” he droned, then offered Pete a small smile. “Really though, I’d never done that,” he said and Pete gaped.

“Wait, you mean when you say inexperienced you mean _completely_? You had never _kissed_ anybody before that just earlier?” he asked and Patrick shrugged but shook his head.

“I’d never really wanted to,” he said quietly, and Pete’s gaze softened. Patrick returned his fond smile, reaching out to touch Pete’s cheek. “You are… something entirely different from anything I’ve ever known. Not just the way you make me feel, but the way you have entirely become part of me in such a short amount of time,” he admitted.

Pete caught his hand and kissed his palm. “Would it frighten you if I expressed exactly how deeply my affections for you go, Patrick?” he asked earnestly. 

Patrick smiled weakly. “Probably, but no more than I’m already frightened by the realization that the growing fondness and contentedness that I’ve felt since the second day of our marriage was most definitely a sneaky occurrence of falling in love,” he all but whispered.

Pete’s breath caught in his throat, and he turned onto his side to fully face Patrick. “The amount of love I feel for you, Patrick Wentz, snuck up on me so quietly that I don’t think I knew it was there until the moment I realized you are truly beautiful to me as a person, not as a face.”

Patrick turned to look at him. “I’ve known it was there.” He shook his head. “I’ve denied what it was. I’ve done all I could to convince myself I was wrong, the feeling was friendship, not love, but I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you that I’m somewhat terribly in love with you, Pete.”

Pete laughed softly, leaning down to kiss Patrick. Patrick hummed against his lips, slowly pressing closer to Pete. “Patrick,” Pete breathed, curling his fingertips in Patrick’s damp hair.

They were interrupted, however, by the door opening. They jumped apart, sitting up quickly. Bronx came running in, looking terrified. “DADDY!” he cried, and Pete crawled off the bed quickly, catching Bronx as he flew into his arms. “Daddy, it’s loud! I don’t like it, daddy!” he sobbed, crying into his father’s shoulder.

Pete shushed him, holding him close. “I know, Bronx, I know my baby,” he cooed, rubbing his back soothingly.

Brendon knocked lightly, ducking in. “Sorry, he ran at that last thunder crash,” he said, and Patrick walked over to him. “Aww, the poor thing!” he said sympathetically.

Patrick bit his lip. “Tonight, after dinner, can we speak?” he asked softly and Brendon frowned, but nodded.

“Of course, you can come to my room whenever you need,” he said indulgently.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick smirked when Brendon and Spencer stopped in the hallway to go to their separate rooms and eyed him awkwardly before sharing a brief hug. Patrick rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, I’ll look away,” he said, turning to look at the wall. He heard a small, nervous giggle before he heard nothing else. He snuck a peek after a moment and bit his lip against a laugh when he saw them sharing small, unrushed kisses, clearly reluctant to draw apart fully. He waited a bit longer before he grew impatient and cleared his throat, looking back at the wall as he heard them part.

“Goodnight, Brendon,” Spencer said awkwardly, and Brendon chuckled.

“Goodnight, my love,” Brendon said and Patrick turned back around just in time to see Spencer walking into his room, waving once more before he shut the door. 

Patrick smirked. “Why Brendon Urie,” he teased and Brendon gave him an embarrassed pout.

“Do not tease me!” he demanded, leading the way the last few doors to his room. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to know that in only a week I will be his husband and have no reason to be _ashamed_ of kissing him? I am so impatient!” he groaned, walking into his room to fall on his bed with a huff. “I never should’ve kissed him, really,” he said, sitting up to face Patrick, who took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, it was playing with fire. Now I’m so tempted _all the time_. Do you know how badly I want to say ‘to hell with it’ and go crawl into his bed at night?” he asked and Patrick smirked. “OH don’t look at me like that, I’m nineteen and about to marry him, I may not be allowed to think those kind of thoughts _yet_ but I can’t help myself!”

Patrick smiled. “Brendon, you know none of us would judge you two if you did… that,” he said, making a face. “You’re getting married. In a week! I mean, as long as you don’t run off and leave Spencer at the altar it wouldn’t really be that wrong, would it?”

Brendon sighed. “I’d judge me,” he said honestly. “I don’t even like to curse, Patrick. I am a man of honor. I want to be honorable. I do not want to know I broke such a rule.” He whimpered. “Stay with me?” he asked desperately. “Just… stay here and make sure I don’t give in to temptation?”

Patrick snorted. “You are insane,” he teased, only to hold out his arms, smiling when Brendon immediately hugged him. “I’m proud of you,” he said, kissing his hair. “You are going to be so happy with Spencer Smith. It’s your own choice and you love him. I couldn’t be happier about your choice of how to spend your life.”

Brendon sighed, leaning against his shoulder. “Patrick, I wish you could feel this happy. I know you are happy, you have a comfortable life here, but I just wish you could know how it feels when I look at Spencer and he smiles and I nearly want to cry I feel so happy,” he whispered.

Patrick ducked his head. “I do, Brendon,” he whispered and Brendon frowned, lifting his head off of Patrick’s shoulder.

“What?” he asked, and Patrick smiled, somewhat bashful.

“I’ve completely lost my senses, Brendon. I’ve been so slowly falling in love that I finally admit it to myself just as I’m so absolutely mad that I don’t know what to do anymore,” he rambled and Brendon gasped.

“What?! With who? Wait- are you having an affair?!” he whispered frantically. “Patrick- Patrick you cannot commit adultery! You will be RUINED-“

“Brendon, Brendon- stop,” Patrick choked out through laughs, holding his hands up to halt Brendon’s rant.

Brendon glared. “You are a decent man, you better not be having an affair-“

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I’m in love with Pete!” he said and Brendon stopped, frowning.

“Oh,” he said, looking more and more confused, before he seemed to come to some sort of realization, a large smile blooming across his face. “OH!” he said, then squealed, bouncing as he grabbed Patrick’s arm. “Patrick! Oh you’re _in love_!” he gushed and Patrick chuckled, very amused at his young friend’s behavior.

“Yes,” he said softly, then sighed, shaking his head. “God, we’ve both been so blind,” he said honestly. “He more so than I have been,” he pointed out with a smirk. “He had an epiphany and realized he loves me. I’ve known for a while, I’ve just denied it so hard because I don’t think I _wanted_ to fall in love with him.”

Brendon smiled. “So what on earth happened to change it?”

Patrick smiled bashfully. “He kissed me,” he said and Brendon scoffed.

“As a boy who is praying for the days to past faster until my marriage, I cannot comprehend being married for four months and not at least doing some kissing,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Even if you weren’t in love, it’s _kissing_!” 

Patrick grinned. “Brendon, you are in love though. You want to kiss him. I didn’t want to kiss Pete until I suddenly did,” he pointed out.

Brendon giggled. “So what changed?” he asked curiously and Patrick groaned.

“Today we were walking. And somehow we got to the topic of love and you and Spencer being young and in love and I asked Pete what love was like, since I’ve never been in love- or, you know,” He blushed. “had never admitted I was,” he added and Brendon smiled. “Well, he was telling me what young love was like, and then what he suspected real love was like, and how he figured you and Spencer- you would never be like he was. Pete was foolish and thought every boy and girl he was fond of and had attraction for was love. It passed quickly every time, but he said he suspected you and Spencer would probably honestly love each other until the end of your days,” he said and Brendon blushed, though he was smiling brightly. “And I agreed. But… I don’t know, something about the way he kept looking at me made me have butterflies, and I couldn’t really fight it. And then the rain came in a rush and we ran through the forest to get to the bridge. A tree nearly fell on us, and when we finally got to the bridge and caught our breath, we were so hysterical and laughing like mad about our wild run from the storm.” Patrick sighed, shaking his head. “He looked at me and called me beautiful, and I was sort of shy about it, and then he just…” He shrugged, giggling. “He kissed me.”

Brendon squeaked, hands over his mouth. “That is so romantic!” he gushed, sighing. “Oh Patrick, what then?” he asked and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“He got a bit flustered and stopped, but I wanted to keep kissing him, so… I did. And we stood there for God knows how long kissing until the thunder startled us apart and we ran up to the house. I beat him in a foot race and we probably would’ve ended up kissing a lot more inside the door, but Dallon found us and told us Bronx was afraid, so we went up to change.” He bit his lip. “Pete… Pete told me he’s in love with me and I told him the same just before you and Bronx came in,” he said softly and Brendon squealed, throwing his arms around him to hug him.

“THAT IS SO ROMANTIC!” he cried, then giggled, bouncing some. “Oh Patrick, how wonderful is it that you’ve fallen in love with Pete? You were worried your life wouldn’t be happy with him, you were so angry at being forced to marry him, and now you’ve _fallen in love_!” he gushed, then sighed, falling back across his bed. “So. Romantic.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, very amused at his friend’s antics. “You are a girl,” he teased, poking his middle as he lay across the bedspread beside him. “It is nice though,” he said and Brendon giggled.

“I’m getting married to Spencer, and you’re married to Pete. We are lucky,” he said, and Patrick sighed.

“Yes, we really are,” he said softly, only to laugh when Brendon squealed and flopped around excitedly.

“Can I die of happiness?” Brendon wondered and Patrick smiled.

“I sure hope not, for if it’s possible, we may both be doomed.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick had fallen asleep speaking late into the night with Brendon, only to wake in the early hours of the morning. He tucked Brendon in, as he was still asleep, and let himself out. Patrick headed across the darkened main hall towards his and Pete’s room. When he got there, he frowned as he saw the doors to the balcony open. 

Patrick picked up a candle off the table- surprised they were still lit- and headed outside. When he got out, he saw Pete standing at the railing, looking up at the moon. The air was very clear after the storm. “Pete?” he called softly as he walked up behind him. 

Pete glanced back and smiled at him. “There you are,” he said, and Patrick smiled bashfully.

“Fell asleep talking to Brendon,” he said, leaning against the damp railing beside him. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked softly.

Pete sighed. “You know me, how often do I sleep?” he asked, leaning his head onto Patrick’s shoulder.

Patrick smiled sadly and kissed his temple. “Peter, you need rest,” he whispered, reaching his free hand up to stroke at his hair.

Pete hummed contentedly, pressing into his fingers. “I could maybe fall asleep if you keep petting me like that,” he joked an Patrick laughed softly.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he urged and Pete nodded, lifting his head with a sigh. Pete allowed Patrick to take his hand and lead him inside. Patrick released Pete so that he could shut the doors while Patrick put out all the candles. 

When Patrick finished changing for bed, Pete was already in bed, curled into a ball. “Will you sing to me?” Pete asked softly and Patrick frowned.

“Are you alright?” he asked, reaching out to curl his arm around Pete’s middle.

Pete hummed, rolling over to lay his head on Patrick’s shoulder. “I can’t shut off my brain.” He pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shirt. “Sing to me,” he whispered and Patrick, smiled, curling his arm around his husband.

Patrick started singing softly, stroking his hand down Pete’s back in slow, soothing touches. When Pete’s breath finally evened out, Patrick slowed to a stop, sighing as he saw the lines across Pete’s forehead. He often wondered if Bronx’s bad dreams were something he got from his father, because Pete rarely slept and when he did, he never seemed very relaxed. Patrick gathered Pete in his arms and held him, kissing his forehead. “I promise, nothing is going to happen to you. Not while I’m here,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

He could almost believe Pete had heard him when he relaxed some in Patrick’s hold.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
When Patrick woke up, he groaned, rolling over in an attempt to find the clock, only to start when, as soon as his vision cleared, he found Pete’s face inches from his own. “AH!” he cried, jerking back, only to groan. “ _Peter_ ,” he groaned, dropping back to the pillow. “Dear God, I’m having a heart attack,” he moaned and Pete laughed. Patrick rolled his eyes and offered him a rueful smile. “What on earth were you doing?” he asked, rolling on his side to face Pete.

Pete smiled and shrugged innocently. “Watching you sleep,” he said and Patrick laughed.

“Has anyone told you that’s odd?” he teased, then bit his lip, turning his face to the pillow a bit. “Besides, I’ve never waken up to find you staring.”

Pete shrugged. “I’ve done it for a while. I guess I just slept later than usual this time,” he said and Patrick eyed him curiously.

“But why? What’s so interesting about me asleep?” he asked and Pete shrugged, looking over his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply and Patrick smiled. “That especially,” Pete added, leaning over to press a kiss to Patrick’s forehead. “Your smile is gorgeous, but I don’t see it often while you’re sleeping.”

Patrick sighed, stretching his arms above his head, only to leave them there when he relaxed. “I really don’t know what you see of me that is so beautiful,” he said and Pete frowned.

“Are you serious? Have you seen your reflection lately?” he asked and Patrick sighed.

“I’m just… a man,” he said simply.

Pete shook his head. “You are so much more,” he said eagerly, sitting up on his elbow to reach out to Patrick’s cheek. “Your skin is so pale and your figure is so soft,” he said, stroking his knuckles down Patrick’s cheek. “Your eyebrows are… perfect,” he commented, stroking his fingertip along Patrick’s eyebrow. “Your eyelashes are so long and the same golden color as your hair. Your eyes are… magical, I’ve told you of their color-changing properties,” he said and Patrick smiled shyly. “Your lips,” Pete added with a slightly darker tone to his voice, eyes growing more intense as he stroked his thumb across Patrick’s bottom lip. “They are… incredible. I want to kiss you all the time.”

Patrick grinned slyly. “Care to do something about that?” he asked and Pete smirked, ducking in to press a small kiss to Patrick’s lips. Patrick hummed, smiling into the kiss. “Good morning,” he whispered and Pete giggled, pressing his forehead to Patrick’s.

“Good morning to you,” he said, then sighed, curling a finger in Patrick’s hair playfully. “Is it mad that I just… I want to sit here and watch you be happy?” he asked and Patrick’s heart fluttered.

“If it is, then I have to say, your madness is beautiful,” he said breathlessly. “Because the way you speak of your affections for me makes me want to never stop smiling.”

Pete kissed him sweetly and whispered simply, “Then I’m doing my job.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pete caught Patrick’s hand after breakfast and smiled. “Come with me,” he said, tugging Patrick to the main hall. When they walked to the passage behind the stairs, Patrick gasped.

“Oh yes, I forgot!” he said, and Pete grinned, pulling out a key. “The ballroom.”

“Yes,” he said, kissing Patrick’s hand before curling their hands together at his side, putting the key into the lock. He turned the key and opened the doors, stepping back to let Patrick go through.

Patrick gasped in shock as they walked in. “Oh!” he whispered, then turned walked up to the top of the stairs, standing between the columns as he looked down at the dance floor and up at the ceiling. “This explains a void of space in the third floor,” he said and Pete nodded.

“It also explains why the wash rooms and quarters downstairs have lower ceilings,” he pointed out.

Patrick touched the tall, mottled brown, gold, and cream colored marble columns that surrounded the sunken dance floor, the gap between each column connected by a decorative iron rail. He gazed up at the coffered gold and green ceiling in wonderment, barely able to breathe for how beautiful the room was. The tap of his steps down the stairs echoed off the white-marble flooring as he descended only to gape as he found a beautiful black grand piano tucked away clear of the dance floor. “My God,” he whispered as he walked straight to it, stroking his fingers along the top, cringing at the dust on such a beautiful instrument. “I could strangle whoever let this get so dusty,” he said out loud, blushing when he remembered he wasn’t alone.

Pete smiled. “Yeah, I always thought that thing was pretty,” he said. “We just had no use for it this year. Some of the staff downstairs play music on the upright in the servants quarters so there’s really been no point-“

Patrick couldn’t help ignore Pete as he sat at the bench and touched the keys. He closed his eyes and started playing a soft melody, one he had written with Brendon long ago, only to stop when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and Pete just stared. “Yes?”

Pete sat down beside him, straddling the bench to look at him with wide eyes. “You… you play?”

Patrick frowned. “Yes, you don’t?” he asked, and Pete shook his head. “Really? Your parents didn’t train you on instruments-“

“I was horrible so they never bothered,” he said, then smiled. “My dear, how are you real?” he asked, kissing him sweetly. “You… you sing beautifully, and now you show me you can play the piano?”

Patrick nodded, chuckling. “And other things. Brendon plays better than me. He also taught me how to play the accordion, since it’s more of a poor person’s instrument.” He smiled. “We actually built a new type of accordion. One that has little motors for a stronger, more sustained sound. And we combined a guitar and an accordion once. It was quite interesting.”

Pete chuckled. “You build mechanical pets, you make beautiful clocks, you invent tiny little odds and ends that are cute, and now you tell me you _combined_ an accordion and a guitar?” he asked and Patrick grinned.

“Peter, Brendon and I invented many things, several of which were never offered to the public.” He smirked. “Do you know we had this idea for a blow torch so large it required a canister of fuel that would go on your back and a torch on a wand so that you didn’t burn yourself? It was for starting fires in fields to clear off the grass before a crop change.”

Pete just snorted. “Sounds like a device that should never be in the hands of Brendon Urie,” he said, then smirked. “Patrick Wentz, you are magical,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

Patrick chuckled, ducking his head away. “Pete, anybody could walk in,” he said, looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Pete growled playfully, pecking his cheek. “I don’t care,” he said, scooting closer so that he could rest his hands on Patrick’s waist, kissing along his jaw. “We’re alone in a room nobody goes into and you’re my husband,” he said, mouthing at his chin.

Patrick sighed. “Pete, anyone- oh God,” he gasped as Pete bit down lightly at the skin at the base of his neck.

Pete smirked, curling his arms around Patrick to pull them as close as the awkward position worked. “You were saying?” he asked, undoing the top buttons of Patrick’s shirt to nip at his collar bones.

Patrick laughed sharply but turned, pulling Pete’s lips to his own. “You’re lucky I love your kisses,” he teased, letting Pete kiss him again.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Patrick was surprised when Ian came to get him and Pete- complete with smirking as he found them kissing- with news that someone had showed up.

Patrick and Pete followed him to the main hall, only for Patrick to stop still as his eyes landed on the woman facing them. “No,” he said weakly, staring with wide eyes. There was a group of people standing at the door, two men and three women, all waiting with uneasy looks. The woman facing them, however, had a face with features that were very familiar.

Pete frowned. “What?” he asked and Patrick started walking, turning to whisper one thing to Pete before heading right for the group.

“Brendon’s sister.”

When Patrick got to them, the one facing them smiled, noticing them. “Hi, um… Lord Wentz?” she ventured and Pete caught up with Patrick, smiling.

“Yes, that would be me,” he said, and Patrick just stared at her, still shocked at how much she looked like Brendon. 

She smiled uneasily. “I hope this is… correct, if not this will be rather embarrassing,” she said, holding out a letter. “We- well we all got these invitations and- well, we met and decided to come early, just in case it was- that they were real,” she said, biting her lip. “Is- Is Brendon Urie really getting married here?” 

Patrick just smiled weakly, almost shocked beyond belief that any of them had got the letters _and_ shown up. “Yes, yes he is,” he said, laughing happily. “You have to be his sister,” he said earnestly and she gave him an amused look.

“Yes… how did you know?”

Patrick shook his head. “You look just alike. I mean… your hair is longer, and your face is more feminine, but it’s like if someone magically turned him into a lady-“ He cringed. “Where are my manners, I’m Patrick Wentz. I’m Brendon’s friend and employer,” he said, offering the others smiles.

“So he has a job? That’s good,” one of the men said, then cringed. “Sorry, I’m Scott Urie. I’m Brendon’s brother. This is my wife, Amelia,” he gestured to the girl with the curly red hair at his elbow. “And this is our sister, McKayle,” he said, and the other dark haired girl smiled and nodded. 

Kara caught the arm of the tall, blond man next to her. “This is my husband, Albert,” she explained.

Albert nodded, patting his wife’s hand on his elbow. “When we got the letter, Kara was almost worried it wasn’t true,” he confided and she gave him an embarrassed look.

Scott frowned. “When we contacted our parents, they said not to bother, but… well I went to see Albert and Kara and McKayle happened to be there. We had to,” he said shrugging. “It made no sense. I don’t know why they wouldn’t want us at our brother’s wedding. I mean, he was at all of ours. I was just surprised it was _here_. I mean, we had no clue he had a friend so we assumed mother and father would make him marry in the same church we all got married in.”

Patrick frowned. “Your mother and father… they didn’t bother telling you Brendon ran away ages ago?” he asked, shocked.

They all exchanged shocked looks and McKayle spoke up. “What?!” she asked fearfully.

Patrick nodded. “He ran away from home and showed up at my shop not long after he turned eighteen. I gave him a job and let him stay in the rooms above the shop, since I lived with my parents and nobody else used them. He’s been living there for over a year.”

McKayle and Scott exchanged looks. “Then how is he getting married at ninet-“

Scott’s words were cut off by a sharp cry from the landing up at the top of the stairs. They all turned and Patrick smiled when he saw Brendon stopped, staring in shock. “W-What-“ He glanced at Patrick and Pete, face drained of color. “What is-“

“Brendon!?” McKayle cried, losing any sense of manners as she turned and ran towards her brother. Brendon seemed to snap out of it and he _beamed_ , running down the stairs, flying into her near the bottom.

“McKayle!” he cried, twirling the small girl around, laughing happily. “Oh I never thought I’d see you again,” he laughed out and she squealed, clinging to him as they spun.

He put her down and she stepped back, smoothing the shoulders of his shirt lapels. “Good word, only four years and you’ve grown up!” she choked out, laughing wetly.

Brendon just nodded. “You too,” he said, then glanced over at the others. His eyes widened more when they landed on his oldest sister. He hadn’t seen her since he was six years old. “K-Kara?” he asked, eyes filling with tears as he stared at her.

She nodded, walking towards him. “It’s me,” she said, shaking her head. “My God, where is that little boy I knew?” she whispered and he let out a sob, rushing over to throw his arms around her neck, holding onto her as he cried through his tears. She curled her arms around him, shushing him as she petted his hair. “Hey, none of that,” she chastised and he pulled back, tears on his face as he looked at her face, then laughed.

“I’m taller than you,” he noticed, and she beamed.

“You’re nearly a man, my dear little brother,” she said, stepping back to look at him, shaking her head. “You’re beautiful,” she said and he laughed wetly.

“So are you,” he said earnestly, shaking his head. “Oh God, Kara, I didn’t think I’d ever see any of you again,” he cried, shoulders shaking as his face crumpled. He put his face in his hands, fighting to regain composure. Kara just rubbed his arm, shushing him as he cried.

“Brendon?! Brendon, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Patrick and Pete turned from the touching scene to see Spencer rushing down the stairs. “Bren?” he asked as he rushed to his side, ignoring the strangers. “Brendon?”

Brendon just stood straight, wiping at his face as he smiled. “Did… Did you do this?” he asked, and Spencer frowned. “Was- it had to be, nobody else would’ve-“ He laughed softly. “Spencer, this is my oldest sister, Kara,” he said, and Spencer suddenly noticed the woman at Brendon’s side. His cheeks colored and he bit his lip, ducking to hide behind his bangs some. 

“Um… maybe?” he said and Brendon just stared at him with a blinding smile. Spencer eyed him uneasily, smiling tentatively. “Is… are you angry?”

Brendon snorted. “You stupid man,” he whispered, catching his hands. “Spencer, you- how did you even find my family?” he asked, and Spencer smiled softly, shrugging.

“Patrick and I did it together. We got Pete’s friends with connections to find them and send them letters inviting them to the wedding,” he said and Brendon gave him a look so loving even Patrick couldn’t fight a blinding smile.

Brendon just shook his head. “You are something else, Spencer Smith,” he said fondly, giggling as he turned to his sister, opening his mouth, only to stop when he noticed the others, including his brother. “Oh Scott! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!” he said, and his brother smiled in amusement, wandering over.

“A man, huh?” he teased affectionately, reaching out to ruffle Brendon’s hair, making him pout.

Brendon giggled. “You guys, this is my fiancé, Spencer Smith,” he said, curling his arm through Spencer’s. He bit his lip as he shared a look with Spencer. “We’re getting married in three days,” he said eagerly.

Spencer greeted them all, and Pete cleared his throat. “Not to intrude, but perhaps you would like to go somewhere to talk? Standing around the main hall isn’t nearly as nice as a parlor or sitting room. Possibly out in the garden?” he suggested to Spencer.

Brendon colored. “Of course!” he said, then darted over to hug Patrick. “You’re coming with me, I have to introduce you properly,” he said, taking Patrick’s arm in his. Patrick just shot Pete an amused look and Pete chuckled.

“I’ll bring you guys tea,” he said, smiling as he watched Brendon tug Patrick around.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Pete and Dallon brought tea and pastries out to where Brendon had taken Patrick and the others to sit at one of the outdoor tables on the veranda. “Thank you, Dallon,” Pete said, and Dallon smiled, leaving them. Patrick tugged Pete to sit beside him.

Brendon smiled. “Thanks Pete,” he said, then leaned against Spencer’s arm. “Now, where was I?” he asked and Patrick snickered.

“You were waxing poetic about all of Spencer’s best attributes, I believe you were on his eyelashes,” he said and Brendon blushed.

“Oh shut up, I’m _allowed_ to be proud of my soon-to-be-husband!” he defended.

Kara sighed. “However did you end up so much of a grown-up?” she asked and Brendon smiled sadly.

“I had to be when I ran away. I was lucky I found Patrick and didn’t end up on the streets,” he said.

Scott shook his head. “But why did you run away?” he asked and his wife put a hand on his arm.

“Dear, maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it,” she suggested and Brendon smiled.

“It’s alright,” he said, then cringed. “Well… I don’t want- I don’t mean anything bad by this,” he started, then chuckled weakly. “But I simply did _not_ intend on being forced into marriage,” he said simply. “I’d watched every single one of my siblings married off at a young age, Scott’s the only one who really got a choice,” he pointed out. “And I just didn’t want it. And when they tried to make me, I left,” he said simply. “I was prepared to live on the streets before I was forced into something I didn’t want to do. I couldn’t have ever been happy with a girl. Not ever. I have never found them attractive in the least.”

McKayle smiled. “You always were so strong-willed,” she said and he shrugged shyly. 

Kara smiled. “Well, it worked out alright for me,” she said and her husband chuckled. “But I can see what you mean.” She eyed Spencer. “So, you ran away from home to escape marrying a girl and met a boy instead?” she teased.

Brendon ducked his eyes. “Spencer was one of the customers,” he said, giving him a bright smile. “Spencer is captain of his own airship and we fixed it a lot.”

Spencer smiled. “Well, I was a customer long before you showed up,” he pointed out. “Also, we didn’t properly meet until about six months ago,” he said and Brendon giggled.

“Oh you know I was smitten with you long before you knew my name,” he said sweetly, making Spencer smile at him affectionately, noses nearly touching as they looked into each other’s eyes. “Patrick teased me all the time about how you made me blush and drop things.” He finally turned back to his brother and sisters. “After Patrick got married, I was at the shop alone most of the time- at least until recently when I hired some boys- but Spencer, you see, he’s such a gentleman,” he said, smiling at him sideways. “He always came by because he worried about me alone all the time, and we got along so well he would spend so much of his time he wasn’t on his ship at the shop and we were both pretty stupid,” he admitted and Patrick snorted.

“They didn’t even admit they were both stupidly in love until Spencer nearly got into a fight with a customer for Brendon’s honor and they were fighting and right there in front of me when I was visiting, he just proposed to him,” he said with an evil smirk.

Spencer and Brendon both blushed, looking away from everybody. “Patriiiick!” Brendon whined and Pete smirked.

“Oh hush, the way Patrick tells it, you both made dramatic declarations of love and intentions to get married all at once,” he teased.

Kara shook her head. “You seem so happy, Brendon,” she said and he beamed, leaning his head against Spencer’s shoulder.

“I am,” he said simply, then rolled his eyes. “I’m marrying _this_!” he said, gesturing to Spencer. “Why would I be anything other than ecstatic?!” He laughed softly. “The most beautiful, honorable, _wonderful_ man in the world fell in love with me. I am so lucky. And even before that, Patrick’s been an amazing friend. He was able to pass as my guardian to sign for our marriage. And he got really lucky with Pete- they never met before the wedding and yet Pete was sweet enough to offer to let us marry _here_ ,” he gushed, gesturing around them. He just sighed. “I’m so lucky.”

Scott smiled. “I’m just happy we get to see how far you’ve come, Brendon,” he said, giving his brother a warm look.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Everyone had been given their own rooms, but McKayle and Brendon were too busy talking to bother with sleep. McKayle had come to Brendon’s room and together they sat knees to knees on the bed, just giggling and chatting, clearly happy to see each other again.

It was getting late what a knock sounded at the door. Brendon slid out of bed and padded over to open it, only to bite his lip shyly when Spencer smiled at him. “I was just going to say goodnight,” Spencer said softly, aware of the others asleep all around them.

Brendon giggled but stood on his toes, leaning in to meet Spencer’s lips for a small, tender kiss. Spencer seemed all too aware about Brendon’s sister being there, however, so he kept the kiss chaste, reaching out to stroke Brendon’s cheek gently as he fell back to his heels. “Goodnight, Spence,” he whispered, leaning against the door casing with a loving look on his face.

Spencer smiled brightly, nodding. “Goodnight, Bren,” he said, then gave in and leaned in to peck his lips once more before turning to walk away.

When Brendon closed the door and headed back into the room, McKayle smirked at him. “Well now, is my presence interrupting?” she teased and Brendon flushed.

“McKayle! NO!” he squeaked, covering his face as he flopped onto the bed. “God, if anything, it helps,” he said honestly and she raised an amused eyebrow.

“And why is that?”

Brendon sighed. “Do you know how hard it is to remain proper when the man you love- the one you’re about to marry- is sleeping a few doors down every night?!” he whined. “My God, he’s a gentleman, and I’m a very proper boy, but even we are suffering the temptations of only having two doors and a few yards between you every night,” he admitted.

She smiled, amused. “You’re both men. Men aren’t quite as pressed to remain chaste, you know,” she pointed out and Brendon shook his head.

“We are very proper men,” he said honestly. He snickered. “My God, Spencer has been working on an airship since he was a boy and he’s never done anything improper before. How did I meet a man with such honor?” he laughed, shaking his head. “But no, we have but a few days before we’re married. The fact we gave in to kissing is bad enough,” he said and she smiled.

“You love him, don’t you? I mean, really,” she asked and he nodded, curling his arms around his pillow as he curled his legs under him.

“I was… very fond of him from the start. He’s such a wonderful man. He’s so nice and such a gentleman. And then Patrick went away and I was left without anybody around, and Spencer took time out of his weeks to stay at the shop just to keep me company.” Brendon giggled softly. “He’s probably loved me longer than I loved him,” he admitted.

McKayle shook her head. “I should probably be telling you that it was wrong to run away from home, but to be honest, I’m glad you did what you needed to in order to make yourself happy, she said and he smiled bashfully.

Brendon eyed her. “What about you? I mean, you got married,” he said pointedly

McKayle snorted, shaking her head. “Oh that bastard went and got killed,” she said and Brendon gaped at her. “What?! He was horrible. I hated that man so much,” she said honestly. “I don’t want it to seem I wished harm on him, but let’s just say I wasn’t too terribly upset when he got ran over by a team of horses, if you know what I mean,” she admitted. She smiled. “I found Kara and she and Albert took me in. They haven’t had any children so they have the room for her poor, widowed sister,” she said and Brendon frowned.

“Kara and Albert have no children?” he asked and McKayle shook her head sadly.

“They’re not sure if they can. It would seem after all these years, Kara must be barren,” she said forlornly. 

Brendon pouted. “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Poor Kara. She would be an amazing mother,” he said sadly.

She shot him a look. “Oh speaking of children, what on earth?! _Lord_ Wentz is married to a man?! What about an heir?” she asked and Brendon grinned slyly.

“Oh he has a son, from his first marriage,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow. “Well, his wife died, so whenever people started pressuring him to give his son a mother, he decided to say ‘to hell with it’ and married a man!” he said and she gasped.

“No! Oh that is too funny!” she cried, giggling into her hands. 

Brendon nodded. “Patrick was tricked into it, he didn’t want to get married, but it has all worked out so well because just recently they admitted to each other that they’ve fallen in love,” he gushed and she sighed.

“Oh it’s like a fairytale,” she said and he nodded.

“It really is.” Brendon sighed. “Patrick never had a mind for love before and now he’s fallen in love with is arranged husband.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t hurt that he adores the little boy. Pete Wentz is a father like you would never expect and he and Patrick treat that child like he’s the center of the universe. They both love that little one more than most parents ever do.”

McKayle just squealed, hugging Brendon. “Your life has turned into a storybook tale since I saw you last, and I couldn’t be more proud,” she said, and Brendon closed his eyes, clinging to his sister.

“I missed you all so much. Seeing you three again has made me nearly as happy as getting married,” he admitted and she just turned and kissed his cheek.

“You’re our baby brother. We always loved you, no matter how long we were apart,” she said and he closed his eyes, almost afraid he would cry again if he spoke.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
If Patrick was honest, Brendon and Spencer’s wedding was beautiful. It was just a plain old ceremony, but the beautiful part was how happy they clearly were. Patrick had never seen a couple who looked so honest and excited when they repeated the vows the priest prompted them with. He had never seen anybody who was so _earnest_ with their words. Brendon and Spencer both looked moments from either tears or hysterical laughter (possibly both) the entire time.

Pete nudged him and whispered softly in his ear, “I doubt I’ve ever seen anybody so happy.” All Patrick could do was nod and smile.

After the wedding, Pete had ordered a massive dinner at Lewiston Hall for everyone in attendance. He had a massive feast planned, all the most expensive dishes, and he’d invited everyone he knew, even those friends who hadn’t attended the wedding because they only knew Pete, not Patrick or his friends.

At the house, Patrick was finally able to meet the rest of Spencer’s crew, having only met his first-mate before. Frank and Ray were very funny men. Brendon’s brother and sisters didn’t seem as amused by their loudness, but they were still nice and conversed with them politely.

Pete kept dragging people over to meet Patrick, making Patrick blush when he realized Pete was _showing him off_. After a while, when the meal was served, everyone took spaces at the long, giant formal dining room. Patrick loved the room. It had red, velvet walls and portraits and gold accented molding everywhere. It was very lavishly decorated and it very much fit the tone of their enormous feast.

The entire day was only as extravagant as Brendon and Spencer’s enthusiasm, however. Their happiness seemed more grand and dramatic than any of the clothes of Pete’s wealthy friends, the exotic dishes they were served, or the splendor of the formal rooms in Lewiston Hall. Patrick had to admit, their bright, loving smiles seemed to be more than enough to cast a shadow on their surroundings every time they shared a look.

Patrick only hoped his and Pete’s surprise was enough to make their day the absolute best day ever.

“Brendon, Spencer,” Pete said, after most everyone was finished with their desert.

“Yes?” Brendon asked, giving him a curious look.

Patrick smiled, squeezing Pete’s hand. “We have a gift, of sorts, for you two,” he said, grinning. “You see, Pete has a house in Town that has been vacant for quite some time, nothing more than a housekeeper living there.” Pete smiled at him and he bit his lip. “It happens to be located quite conveniently between the airfield and the shop,” he said and he saw Brendon’s eyes widen with realization. 

Pete chuckled. “We have no use for that house. It’s a nice house, but we’ve got this place, and nobody else is living there so…” he trailed off and Patrick chuckled at the shocked look on both of Brendon and Spencer’s faces.

“We want you two to have it,” Patrick said simply.

“Patrick, we can’t possibly-“

“We couldn’t accept it-“

“It’s just too much-“

Pete held up a hand. “Oh hush, like we’re sending you two back to London newly married to live in a two-room flat with three other people,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve had it furnished and the kitchens stocked by the housekeeper. She’s a kind old lady who only asks that you two keep up after yourselves, since she hasn’t the energy anymore to look after a family by herself anymore.”

Spencer started to object and Patrick leaned over, holding out a ring of keys. “These are yours,” he said firmly, pressing them into Spencer’s hand.

Spencer just looked down at them, then looked at Brendon, who shared his look. “I-“ He shook his head, smiling gratefully. “Thank you,” he whispered softly, and Brendon squeezed his hand.

“Thank you Patrick, Pete,” he said, then giggled. “Spencer we have a home,” he said softly, and Spencer beamed, pressing a kiss to his husband’s hand.

“I daresay we do,” he said softly, voice bubbling with happiness as they shared a long look.

Pete smirked and whispered to Patrick. “Although the chances they make it all the way back to London is very unlikely-“

Patrick shushed him, glaring. “Pete!” he hissed, looking around, grateful to see nobody had noticed.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
It was very near dawn when the party wound to a close and everybody saw Spencer and Brendon off. The grayness of the sun rising in the distance the only light available as they stood and waved as Spencer and Brendon (as well as the crew) took off in Spencer’s airship, which Spencer’s crew had flown up to meet them. 

When Pete and Patrick had seen everyone else off in carriages, they both headed up to bed, leaning against each other tiredly. They both stopped in to check on Bronx, smiling at how peacefully he slept, before heading to bed. 

When Patrick came back from changing for bed, he found Pete standing at the door to the balcony, watching the sun rise. He smiled and walked up behind him, curling his arms around his middle, kissing his shoulder. “Come to bed, Pete,” he mumbled tiredly, kissing his neck afterwards.

Pete leaned back, turning to catch Patrick’s lips. “Watch the sunrise with me,” he said, and Patrick smiled and nodded, sliding under Pete’s arm to lean into his side. Pete curled his arm around Patrick and smiled contentedly as he leaned their heads together, enjoying the silence as they watched the sun come up over the horizon.

“Do you think Brendon and Spencer will like their new house?” Pete wondered and Patrick chuckled.

“Of course.” He smiled. “They deserve it, they’re amazing people. Brendon deserves all the happiness in the world, in my opinion,” Patrick said and Pete turned to kiss his cheek.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world. You’re the best friend to him that I’ve seen anybody be to anyone else.” He nuzzled Patrick’s hair, kissing his temple. “I wish I could give you everything you could ever want to make you happy.”

Patrick lifted his head and caught Pete’s lips. “I have everything I could want,” he answered against his lips. He opened his eyes and was met with a bright, loving look in Pete’s warm brown eyes. “You, Peter, are the only thing I need,” he whispered, cupping his cheek.

Pete smiled bright and wide. “Well then, you are in luck, since I never plan to be parted from you,” he said, meeting Patrick’s lips for another lazy peck. “Since I love you and all, I figure I’ll stick around,” he said and Patrick chuckled.

“Hmmm, seems like a good plan,” he muttered, before nodding towards the door. “Bed?” he asked and Pete made a face.

“Go on without me, I’m just not really sleepy,” he said simply.

Patrick, however smirked, tugging at Pete’s hand as he stepped back into the bedroom. “Who said anything about sleep,” he asked and Pete’s jaw dropped as Patrick turned and headed across the room without a backwards glance.

Pete glanced out at the sun on the horizon and scoffed before turning to follow Patrick. “Who needs to see a sunrise anyways.”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment here or on the masterpost on lj, [here](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/945248.html) or at the end [here](http://heartsdesire456.livejournal.com/944789.html)


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